


73 Seconds

by LiquidCaliban



Series: Space [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath, BRING BACK THE BEARD, F/M, Not Captain Marvel Compliant, Post Infinity War, Spoilers!, ergo not Endgame compliant, obviously, romanogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 21:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 50,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16730742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiquidCaliban/pseuds/LiquidCaliban
Summary: The amount of time required to slip the surly bonds. This story will detail the aftermath of Infinity War for those left behind. Romanogers focus.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: As Stan Lee now belongs to eternity, may he rest in peace, I'm only going to acknowledge him on this go round, even if the MCU is made of many, many wonderful contributors. 
> 
> Summary: The aftermath of IW as told through the lens of my previous fic, Countdown. I'm going to make a little series dealie if I can figure out the thingies involved.

“Oh, God.”

Steve couldn’t think of anything else to say as he sat panting and defeated beside Vision’s monochrome, inanimate body. The full implications of what Thanos had done prevented him from rising to his feet as if gravity had suddenly increased fourfold. There was no action to be taken, no heroics to be performed. It was just…over. He lacked even the strength to turn his head and find out who wasn’t here, if _she_ wasn’t here. The strength to overcome that fear didn’t exist anywhere, not even in a super soldier.

Super soldier. _Super_ soldier. The description couldn’t have meant less in that moment. He might as well have transformed back into his true, skinny, sickly self for all the good he had done today. He had grasped that damned gold gauntlet in his hands and been utterly powerless against it. Regret and guilt felt as if they’d replaced all the blood in his veins with a thick, burning oil.

Somewhere behind him, the Hulkbuster armor was whirring and clanking with Bruce’s every movement, so Bruce was still here. Beneath that were the more subtle sounds of the War Machine armor, but Steve had already known Rhodey was still here; his increasingly urgent calls for Sam had given him away.

That meant Sam was _not_ still here. Sam had turned to dust, just like Bucky. And Wanda would never have left Vision’s side, even though Vision was dead, so Wanda must be gone.

Thor suddenly gave a choked sob, as if the weight of the situation had just taken him down as well. So Thor was fine. Or still here, anyway. Steve vaguely remembered that he had seen Thor, spoken to him after Thanos had disappeared. There were one or two other voices in the background that Steve recognized from the past hour, but not nearly as many as he wanted to hear.

No T’Challa calling out to inquire about the safety of his people. No Sam ensuring his friends were okay with a joke that belied his genuine concern. No Tony making inappropriate quips. Of course, Tony had disappeared after the initial attack, so Tony wouldn’t be here. Tony had missed out on everyone else dying. Maybe Tony was already dead before Thanos got all the stones, killed on whatever mission he’d given himself without asking if anyone else could possibly…

Tears burned Steve’s eyes as he realized this was the second time he’d been confronted with nearly every one of his friends being gone. This time, however, it wasn’t because of his noble self-sacrifice, but because of his inexcusable failure. There were no missing years, just missing friends who should be here and an all-consuming emptiness.

He thoughts continued to race in a disjointed way, and he knew he needed to turn and look…but if he didn’t, he could remain in a world where he still had some support, where he still had…

An arm suddenly encircled his neck as a warm body pressed against his back. In spite of his knowledge that half the life in the universe had been wiped out in an instant, he could have cried for joy knowing that this particular one had been spared. He hadn’t heard her approach, hadn’t heard her labored breathing behind him, but it didn’t matter because Natasha was still with him. He didn’t need anyone else in the entire world if he got to keep her. It was selfish and greedy and whatever else, but Natasha was still here. She was with him. She was holding him. After a few moments, she whispered in his ear, “How is it that you and I are always standing together at the end of the world?”

He took a few deep breaths, trying not to cry from the combination of grief and relief that threatened to overwhelm him. “We’re not standing this time.”

“Then let’s get up.”

Her voice was confident, but somehow didn’t impart the strength he needed. He felt too defeated, even with her holding him. “Don’t know if I can this time.”

“You can. You will.” She pulled away as she stood, providing the motivation to overcome his temporary inertia, if only to be in a position to be closer to her. “We need to do damage assessment.”

Although he managed to get to his feet, he couldn’t seem to pick up his head. “Half the people in the universe have been snuffed out. What other damage, exactly, are we supposed to assess?”

“The half that weren’t.” Her gaze and voice remained stunningly level as she angled his face toward hers. “The half that’s scared and looking for people to take command and explain…” She suddenly took on an alarmed expression as she turned toward the others, still standing a short distance away. “Rhodey is your suit functional?”

“Limited,” Rhodey replied. “What are you looking for?”

“We need to get back to the palace, send a message.”

“I’ve got comms rebooting, but minimal firepower and no flight capabilities ‘til the armor gets some repairs.” A sad look flashed across his face as he murmured, “Guess I can’t just call Tony to…”

She cut him off, “That’s a start. Once you’re on, tell whoever answers that we need to start getting in contact with as many governments as possible.” She began to pace the clearing, though she kept her left arm close to her body as if she were guarding herself from something. “Maybe we can set up a worldwide broadcast or something…”

“Nat, what are you…” Steve started.

“No one else knows what’s happening. We didn’t get the chance to tell anyone what was going on before the fight started. Imagine what you’re feeling right now on top of not knowing _why_ any of this is happening. How long will the shock last, huh? I’m betting not that long before someone with nuclear codes decides to fire a first strike, thinking they’re just retaliating.”

“World War Three,” Bruce muttered.

“Exactly.” Natasha looked around at the small group. “Thor? Can you get back me there?”

He nodded solemnly. “Of course.”

She had crossed the clearing and grasped Thor’s neck before Steve could argue. White lightning shot through Thor’s axe and Natasha was suddenly gone. The feeling of devastating loss shot through Steve’s guts before he could react a second late with a cry, “No!”

“Cap!” His struggles were barely restrained by Bruce using the power behind the Hulkbuster armor as Rhodey said, “Hey, Steve, relax!”

“I…I need…Natasha…” He hadn’t even kissed her, told her how thankful he was that she was still here…

“Yeah, you don’t want her out of your sight right now. I get that.” Rhodey grasped his shoulders, the metal fingers of the War Machine digging into Steve’s muscles. “But you gotta realize that she’s right. You’ll see her when we get back to the palace, after we help with the people down on the battlefield. We’re soldiers. Right now it’s time to help our fellow soldiers.”

Steve took a deep breath. Rhodey was right. _Natasha_ was right. People were still in danger and there was no time for self-pity. He needed to come back to himself and be Captain America. He looked toward General Okoye, the only Wakandan in sight. “General, what do you need us to do?”

Reminded of her responsibilities, Okoye drew herself up to her full height. “We will determine our casualties and organize triage for those who have been injured.” She retrieved her spear from where it must have fallen earlier. Her voice was clearer as she rested the spear on her shoulder, “Follow me.” The group fell into line behind her on a path back toward the sound of human suffering.

As they made their way out of the forest, Steve found himself walking beside the talking raccoon that had come with Thor. He cleared his throat after a few moments and asked awkwardly, “Your, um…tree friend?”

“Groot,” the raccoon replied, not looking up at him. “Nope. That guy with the arm?”

It took Steve a second, but he finally realized, “Oh, Bucky.” He nearly smiled as he imagined the look that had surely crossed Bucky’s face if he’d encountered this strange yet familiar creature. “He…he’s gone too.” They were silent again as cries of pain from the battlefield began to become audible. “I’m Steve Rogers, by the way.”

“Rocket,” the raccoon growled back.

“Thank you for coming to fight and…”

The raccoon – Rocket – finally glanced at him. “Look, I’m not here to make friends. Let’s just do whatever we have to here so we can go to the palace and you can find your wife and I can find Thor so I can get back to my pod, ‘kay?”

Steve paused as Rocket continued on, not even correcting his misconception about Natasha. Considering he was alone on a strange world without the two friends he’d arrived with, one of whom was now dust…

A grinding of gears preceded a heavy metal hand landing on Steve’s shoulder. Bruce looked down at him with a sad smile. “You gonna be okay, Cap?”

“No idea,” Steve replied honestly, looking out over the battlefield where Wakandan warriors were assisting each other toward the transport vehicles that had returned. It looked like some medics were on the scene as well. “Guess there’s more important things to think about right now, huh?”

“Well…” Bruce shook his head and didn’t continue. Steve realized that they were probably going to be having an awkward conversation at some point, even if this was absolutely not the appropriate time. “Oh, hey, I think she wants us over there.”

Okoye, speaking to a large man in furs that Steve remembered T’Challa greeting earlier, was beckoning with a wave of her hand, so Steve jogged over with Bruce on his heels. “Captain, this is M’Baku of the Jabari tribe. He has agreed to take command of the field.”

“Are you going somewhere?” For some reason, Steve felt like he’d been punched in the gut again. Even if he’d only met Okoye a short time ago, she was another human being that he recognized in this suddenly uncertain world. “Is that the best idea?”

“My kimoyo beads were damaged in the battle, so my communications are not available. I must return to the palace to…” She paused to swallow hard before continuing, “It is my duty to protect the royal family and I must ensure the Princess and Queen Mother are safe. I must assemble the Dora Milaje. M’Baku is a capable leader and will handle the situation here.”

After a long pause to process her logic, Steve nodded to her and she sprinted toward a departing transport. He turned to extend his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

The larger man hesitated before reaching out to grasp Steve’s wrist in an iron vise that somehow remained brotherly. “M’Baku of the Jabari. T’Challa spoke highly of you. That alone would not have earned you my respect, but I saw you fight. Now I can see that T’Challa was right about you.”

“Thank you. And thank you for…well, I’m glad you’re on our side.”

M’Baku laughed, a low rumbling sound that came from somewhere deep in his chest. The vibration traveled through his arm, still grasping Steve’s. “You are all right. For a colonizer.”

“Well…” Steve covered up his speechlessness with concern for a warrior stumbling toward them, clutching a bloody wound across her stomach. He was able to bury his anxiety for the next few hours as he assisted the Wakandan doctors, medics and soldiers to stabilize and transport the wounded back to the main hospital in the city. By the time he had boarded a transport with the last remaining able-bodied Wakandans  and his fellow Avengers, he was about ready to tackle Natasha in an embrace the moment he saw her, if only to confirm that she was real and present and…

He took a deep breath as they approached the palace.


	2. Chapter 2

As Thor set them down on the helipad of the palace Natasha felt slightly nauseous, a combination of vertigo following the unusual method of flight and the pain from her broken ribs. She estimated that at least four were involved on her left side. She’d fractured ribs before and she was concerned about some of the complications she’d experienced on several of those occasions. She was going to be _pissed_ if she had a flail chest as opposed to a pneumothorax. Or a hemothorax. Oh, if there was a fucking hemorrhage involved… She took a deep breath that she immediately regretted, gasping from the shooting pain.

Thor tried to help her as she pitched forward, but only succeeded in grabbing her at just the wrong spot. He yelped an apology when she cried out, allowing her to drop to one knee as she caught her breath. All the speed she had urged before takeoff seemed misplaced. Would it really have been so terrible to spend five minutes in Steve’s arms, appreciating his solid reality and all-encompassing love? Basking in the knowledge that they’d both been spared, together?

Only if she was willing to deny that same experience to billions of others. She must have borrowed Steve’s streak of altruism for the moment.

She took a few shallow breaths and waved off Thor’s concern. “It’s…I’m okay. I just need a minute.”

“Very well. I only mention that you urged haste…”

“I know, Thor. I know.”

“Indeed.” His heavy hand landed gently on her shoulder, warm and comforting. “No one would begrudge you a moment to gather yourself.”

“Sure,” she replied, forcing herself to her feet. “But you’re right. We don’t have a moment. Like I said…”

“The Midgardians need to know this was not an attack of this world.”

“Exactly.” There was no doubt in her mind that Shuri would be able to set up the kind of world-reaching broadcast that Natasha was envisioning, so she began rehearsing a soundbite in her head, trying to make it sound like something that Maria would effortlessly whip up and send out to the world media. Another thought abruptly struck her – she had no idea who was still out there to hear her message. Should she try to get in touch with Maria or Nick first? How would she feel if one of them didn’t answer? And what about Clint? What if he had turned to dust? Or Laura? Or the kids? Shit, the kids! What if they were alone and scared and…

She angrily swiped at her eyes as she pushed through the doors into the palace, glad she knew how to get to Shuri’s lab. It was getting difficult to catch her breath as she walked, so she slowed her pace. She needed time to think, anyway, time to plan a response. She was good at the wrong kind of improvisation for this particular mission. Authenticity was always a challenge when combined with her professionalism. She really should have sent Steve here to handle the sincerity angle. Or brought him along. Thor could probably handle the added weight.  

She paused as she approached the door to the lab, turning to look at possibly the only person on Earth who knew more about the situation than Bruce. “Thor, would you…would you go on camera with me? You know what’s going on so…could you help me explain?”

“I would be honored.”

Natasha wasn’t sure if honor were really involved, but she smiled and touched his forearm in a silent gesture of thanks before walking through the door of the lab.

It wasn’t entirely surprising that Shuri was running toward them the moment they entered, but Natasha was still taken aback by the girl’s frantic, “My brother! Where is he?” She shot a critical look at her Dora Milaje guard, who was standing at attention by the door in spite of a bleeding wound on her head. “Ayo will not let me leave the palace to find him!”

“I don’t know,” Natasha replied, somewhat honestly. She hadn’t seen T’Challa since the height of the battle, but the look on Okoye’s face had told her all she needed to know. “I didn’t see him afterwards.”

“He is not with you. And he has not contacted me.” Shuri tapped the beads around her wrist (Natasha wasn’t entirely clear on their purpose, just that they seemed like an Apple Watch on steroids), as if to confirm that T’Challa wasn’t trying to reach her. Then her shoulders shook for a moment as she dipped her head, covering her mouth with one hand. Natasha was unsure if she should try to comfort the young woman or give her space. How could she be so lost without a character to play?

Thankfully, Thor stepped forward to pull Shuri into a hug. Ayo, still standing at attention with her spear firmly planted, pointedly ignored a tear that rolled down her own cheek. In response to something Thor murmured, Shuri replied, “Our mother helped to evacuate the city, to try to keep the people calm. She has already let me know that she is returning as soon as she can.”

“Wonderful. A mother’s love is unrivalled,” Thor rumbled as he stepped back, hands still on Shuri’s narrow shoulders. “Until she arrives, perhaps you could help with a plan that Natasha has devised.”

Shuri threw herself into the assignment, directing them to connect terminals they didn’t understand with incomprehensible cables until lights flashed in certain colors and patterns. Ten minutes later, Natasha and Thor were standing in front of a shattered window with the Wakandan jungle behind them. Shuri had set up some kind of connection that would make Tony Stark blush in order to reach every possible cable and internet equipped device simultaneously, if it worked as planned. She finished setting up a camera, pointing to a light on top of it. “When this turns green, you are live to the world, in five, four…” She counted down the rest of the way silently.

Natasha nodded, self-consciously wondering why she hadn’t bothered to look in a damn mirror before…green light. “People of the world…”, she began. The opening seemed too ominous, so she immediately corrected, “Everyone… everyone on Earth. My name is Natasha Romanoff of the Avengers.”

Without prompting, Thor added, “And I am Thor Odinson, of Asgard and the Avengers.”

Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat. “We’re here because it is your right to know what’s happening. It’s important that everyone knows that this was not an attack from one nation against any other. There is no reason for any country to attack another country.”

Over the next few minutes, though it felt like hours, she and Thor calmly explained the events of the past few days, including what had happened to the Asgardian refugees and in New York before telling about Thanos’ appearance in Wakanda and what he had done. Thor made a spontaneous plea to world governments to see to their citizens’ needs, a plea likely rooted in his guilt for not being able to protect his own people.

Natasha swallowed and blinked away tears, trying to think of what Steve might say, if he weren’t currently taking care of casualties in the field. She took a deep breath and said, “Everyone is suffering right now. We’ve all lost people we love. But now is not the time to lash out. Now…now we have to take care of each other. Please, check on your neighbors, contact your family and friends. We’ve already lost so many. Let’s make sure we don’t lose any more. Thank you.”

Shuri flipped a switch and the light on top of the camera turned off. Natasha exhaled louder than she’d intended. “Well, that was awful. Guess spies don’t make the best spokespeople.”

“On the contrary,” Thor replied, “you were quite effective.”

“Did you come up with that last part ahead of time?” Shuri asked. “Or did you just…oh, Bast preserve us.” Her fingers flew over the display screen as flashing alerts began to pop up. “We have incoming communications.”

“From who?”

“Everywhere! I didn’t realize they would be able to trace our signal so quickly, but…who do you want first?”

“US, UK, China, Russia, France, India, Israel, North Korea, Pakistan,” Natasha rattled off without thinking about it. “And the UN if we can get them. Did I miss anyone?”

“Anyone who what?” Shuri asked, though she was still scanning through the requests still appearing on her screen.

“Has nukes. I want guarantees no one’s going to fire one.” This was more Natasha’s speed. No matter what Thor said, she was far more comfortable dealing with military and government types on secure connections than broadcasting to the world. She told herself this was probably a good Steve-like position to take, at least until she could get in touch with Nick Fury and make sure he was pulling strings behind the scenes.

Two hours later, she had reached her personal limit for bureaucrats and had spoken to people in every language she knew and a few she didn’t. Every nation had sustained similar losses in raw numbers, but while the US, France, Japan and many more still had their heads of state, the UK, Germany, Russia, China and several other large countries were frantically attempting to install the next in line before the government fell into chaos. Still, she had worked with Thor and Queen Ramonda, who had thrown herself into the diplomatic process after a tearful reunion with her daughter, to coordinate a shaky moratorium on acts of aggression between all UN member states for the immediate future.

Exhausted and still in pain, Natasha ended another unsuccessful call to Nick (preceded by another unsuccessful call to Maria) and decided that she was going to do more harm than good if she talked to one more government official, no matter how badly the King of Morocco wanted to speak with a representative of the Avengers. She wanted to see Steve, ensure that she hadn’t imagined him in the aftermath, so defeated and needy and… Why had she left him? Since when was she the kind of person who put the good of humanity ahead of herself? That was Steve’s influence, definitely. She had a sudden urge to wrap her arms around him and never let go, no matter how much that was going to hurt her broken ribs.

She glanced around the lab, where Wakandans had been filtering in as time passed, working the communications terminals and providing assurances and explanations according to Queen Ramonda’s instructions. The situation here was under control. Even Thor had departed to help at the hospital. Natasha relinquished her seat to a man wearing an elegant purple robe and walked toward the door, arm tightly clasped to her side.

Before she could leave, Shuri reached out to grasp her arm. “You are injured. I can help.”

“You really don’t have to…”

“Please. I need to do something and Mother wants me to try talking to the prime minister of somewhere.”

Natasha nodded, understanding the girl’s desire for distraction. She followed Shuri into another section of the lab that was currently deserted. It would be in bad taste to bring up the fact that Shuri was the new Queen of Wakanda. Instead, Natasha commiserated, “Can’t say I blame you. Politicians can be a challenge even on the best day.”

Shuri’s only answer was a hum as she prepared some kind of apparatus that reminded Natasha of Dr. Cho’s healing cradle. She mentally added Helen Cho to the growling list of people she should check on. Shuri waved her beads over Natasha’s body and continued to make adjustments before saying, “You have five fractured ribs and a lot of bruises. If we let the bruises heal on their own, this should not take too long.”

“Okay.”

“If you take off your vest and top, I will treat your ribs.”

She unzipped her vest and slipped out of it before stripping off the top half of her catsuit. “The vest is great, by the way. I don’t think I ever got to thank you for it personally.”

“You’re welcome.” Shuri eyed her exposed skin up and down; it had been quite a while since anyone other than Steve had gotten a look at this much of her body. “Do not take this the wrong way, but…how many times have you been shot?”

Natasha looked down. She’d seen people with worse. Not alive, but… “They’re not all from bullet wounds,” she eventually offered. Pointing at different scars, she said, “These were shrapnel. These were from knives. This was an arrow…”

“An arrow?”

“Friendly fire,” she replied with a tight smile. It hadn’t been friendly at the time, no matter how things had ultimately turned out. She hadn’t tried to call Clint yet. The odds that all the Bartons had survived were not high and she wanted to put off that knowledge as long as possible. It was cowardly but…she had broken ribs to deal with. There was only so much pain one person could endure at any given time. She lay on the table at the angle Shuri indicated. “So, do I want to know how this works?”

“Are you scientifically inclined?”

She thought of how Shuri had bested Bruce’s intelligence earlier with just a comment and a smirk and stated, “Not in the least.”

“Then we will just call it vibranium magic.” Shuri set a silvery contraption over Natasha’s injury site and there was an immediate sensation of tingling and warmth. “Just relax and try not to move. You should be healed in about twenty minutes.”

Natasha was still there when Steve wandered in, his shoulders sloped and head hanging. She reached her hand toward him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He grasped her hand between both of his, lacing his fingers through hers while squeezing both of their hands with his other one. He took a moment to take in the lab before really seeing her. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be okay soon. Are you hurt?”

“Just the usual. Serum’s already taken care of everything.”

She wasn’t sure she trusted his assessment. “We’ll find somewhere to shower when I’m done here.”

“That sounds good.” He leaned down and rested his forehead in the curve of her neck. “I love you. I didn’t tell you earlier that I love you.”

“I love you, too, Steve. You don’t have to say it for me to know it.”

He stayed in that position until something beeped and Shuri appeared to disconnect the apparatus. Natasha stood and stretched, feeling none of the pain that had threatened to debilitate her earlier. “Wow. Thank you, Shuri.”

“No problem. If Mother and Ayo allow it, I should go to the hospital to assist.”

Before she left to do that, Shuri was kind enough to direct Natasha and Steve to a guest suite they could use in the palace and provide them with the access codes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for thinking it was a good idea to start a fic before exams. I'm clearly an idiot. Anyway, here is fic, which is not in any way compliant with the A4, beardless trailer.

Steve allowed Natasha to maneuver him through the guest suite Shuri had given them, barely noticing the bright colors of the rich fabrics and the luxurious wooden and metal appointments in the rooms. It was the kind of place he’d normally gape over if they were checking into a hotel over the past two years. He managed only to mumble, “S’nice. This place, I mean.”

“You don’t have to say something just to _say_ something,” Natasha replied softly, her voice almost palpably warming him from within as she spoke. “If you don’t feel like talking, don’t.”

Her touch was gentle as she propelled him into the large bathroom, all marble and glass and mirrors. He forced himself to focus on the moment. The odd hole that had been expanding inside him had abruptly retreated when he’d reunited with her in the lab not long before. There really was only one thing he wanted to say at the moment as he moved through a world that needed him less than ever, with only Natasha to ground him. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. Now…” She closed the bathroom door and turned toward him. “Strip.”

“Is that really the best idea right now?”

“Yes.” She pulled off the top portion of her catsuit, which she’d only slipped back into a few minutes before, as she reached into the glassed-in shower stall to turn on the water. “We’re both exhausted right now and we’re not going to bed battle-dirty, so…yes. It is.” She paused for a moment to test the heat of the water. “We need to shower, Steve. That’s all we need to do right now.”

“Right.” He tried to think about all the friends they’d lost today as she peeled off her boots and pants, followed by the scant undergarments she wore under her catsuit. His throat went completely dry as she unclasped her bra. Would it be easier to focus on his grief if she weren’t so beautiful? Or if he didn’t love her so much? They’d taken enough post-mission showers together for this to be normal, but…how could anything be normal right now? His salivary response abruptly shifted from dry to drooling as he watched her move closer. She was naked now as she worked on his muted suit, her fingers easily finding the zippers and clasps she’d undone so many times before. For some reason, he didn’t want her to perform what should have been a routine exercise. He grabbed her hands as he gasped, “Nat…”

She resisted the weak grip of his hands on her wrists, continuing to pull his sleeves down as she undressed him. “You and I both need to clean up.” She’d gotten the top part of his suit off, allowing him to struggle out of his gloves on his own. He’d managed to get them off by the time she was undoing his boots. She looked up at him as she yanked his pants down. “This doesn’t have to be anything more than a shower. Let’s just be together for a little while, okay?”

He couldn’t imagine a more convincing argument than proximity, so he allowed her to lead him under the warm spray of the shower once he was naked. The wide stall felt like it was experiencing a downpour of warm rain as he stepped into it. He tipped his head back, allowing the water to run over his face. He tried not to think about what might be in the dirt running off his skin and down the drain, the ashes of his friends being flushed through pipes and off to a treatment plant and…

“Steve.”

He opened his eyes and looked down at Natasha, her eyes wide open in spite of the water falling into her face. He was so grateful that she was here, that she was standing in front of him with her hands on him that he lost control of his neck, allowing his forehead to rest against hers. “Nat…you…I…”

She didn’t leave him struggling for more than a moment. “It’s okay to cry. Or scream. Or if you want to smash the shit out of this room, fine. But please don’t try to hold it all inside.” A wry smile perked up the left side of her mouth. “Besides, if you don’t let it out you might hurt yourself and I don’t know if Shuri has any geriatric hernia repair machines.”

“Old man jokes? Really?” He felt himself relax in spite of how bad he felt otherwise. He had Natasha now and he could appreciate that particular blessing. Wrapping his arms around her torso, he pulled her against his chest. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if…” he dropped his head and slouched so he could bury his face in the crook of her neck, “if I’d looked around and you were gone…Nat…”

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s okay.” One of her arms was tight around his waist while her other hand was in his hair, her fingertips massaging his scalp. “I’m here. You can let go. It’s just you and me.”

Before he had time to think about it, his eyes began to burn. The tears were an unstoppable force once they began. Sobs wracked his body as he let himself remember Bucky disintegrating into ashes right in front of him. Sam was gone and Wanda was gone and T’Challa was gone and… Steve clutched Natasha against his body, her warm, solid presence reminding him that he hadn’t lost everything, no matter how he felt. She was his gravitational constant, his grounding force, his electromagnetic center, his physical concept that he couldn’t actually name or define.

She allowed him to cry for an indefinite amount of time before she began to lather his hair with a shampoo that smelled like something woody and spicy. He simply appreciated the feeling as her fingers worked through his hair, stroking the stress out of his head with the repetitive motions. He was about to fall asleep just like that when she started to work the lather along his jawline.

“Um, Nat?”

“Sorry, but you’ve got a lot of crap in your beard. Gotta make sure all your hair is clean.”

“Uh…I can shave,” he suggested. “If you want.”

“Don’t you dare.” She pushed up on his chin to close his mouth as she got to the area near his lips. “I’m not giving up my sexy bearded Steve on top of everything else.”

In spite of the reminder of their unthinkable loss, he would have kissed her right then if he hadn’t been covered in frothy soap. The rainfall spray from the shower didn’t seem like it would be enough to rinse him, but Natasha was suddenly aiming a handheld wand with more water pressure at him. He closed his eyes and allowed her to thoroughly cleanse him. Keeping his eyes closed, he pictured a weird locker room scene where Sam and Bucky were bantering as they all stood under similar sprays after a football game or something. Their team had won, of course, on a miracle throw, catch and run on the final play. Even Tony had been there to throw a block in the final seconds. Now they could all celebrate a victory together, the way it should be.

Steve opened his eyes to interrupt the fantasy as Natasha knelt to rub soap over his legs. She had returned up to wash her own hair before he gathered himself enough to react to her body. He’d actually started to feel better as she’d started working her way down his body with a soapy cloth, gently rubbing down his skin from his neck to his feet. By the time she was finished, he was ready to repeat the process on her once she’d rinsed the shampoo from her hair. He accepted the bottle of shower gel and bath sponge with a soft kiss against her warm lips.

“Love you,” he whispered as he swiped a smudge of dirt from her neck.

She hummed a positive reply while he liberally lathered her skin with soap, water and kisses. He had gotten down to a spot below her left breast when he noticed something odd. “Nat, where’s your scar that was here? That little fishhook shaped one?” He leaned down to get a better look, having become intimately familiar with every inch of her. The skin was smooth and unblemished where the scar had been. His fingertips found another incongruous spot. “And there was a bullet wound on your back that’s not there anymore. The fat spider one.” He’d actually kind of liked that one; it was like a little cartoonish tattoo of her alter-ego.

“Huh.” She felt the places he’d indicated as if confirming that she was indeed missing some scars, as if he hadn’t memorized her body by now. “Well, they were both under the machine Shuri used to heal my ribs. Maybe scar removal was a side effect?”

He rubbed the sponge over her skin again, as if that would remove some unseen scar-covering dirt. “Seems a little farfetched.”

“Steve, we just fought an army of aliens in a secret country with a space god and a talking raccoon. Please explain how skin regeneration is the weirdest part of that.”

“Um…” He ran his hand down her side until he could thumb over the scar near her hip; she wasn’t completely changed after Thanos’ snap. He inhaled deeply before saying, “Well, the anti-bikini one is still there, anyway.”

Her voice was almost inaudible over the sound of the shower, but he heard her murmur, “Barnes never got to make that up to me.”

He nearly slipped as he knelt to wash her legs. “Nat…”

“Well. That just means he owes me and we’ll have to get him back. We’ll find a way to get them all back.” She looked down at him with a sad smile. “Isn’t that supposed to be your line?”

Leaning his forehead against her lower belly, he sighed. He _was_ supposed to be the optimistic one. He hoped he just needed a little time to get back to that part of himself. “I appreciate you picking up my slack at the moment.”

“That’s what partners do.” Her fingers tangled into his beard as she guided him back to a standing position. “You and me. We can do this.”

He wasn’t sure that he believed that, but he definitely believed in her. And he believed her kiss. That was a good start.

* * *

“Wait, wait, wait, wait…you’re tellin’ me there’s an actual thing on Earth called a raccoon that looks like _me_?”

“Uh…yeah,” Bruce replied, unsure of how Rocket could be unaware that he was an actual talking raccoon. He decided on the most ambiguous route possible. “There’s an animal that looks a lot like you that’s native to North America. They don’t talk or anything like that, but…uh, the colors and body…it’s pretty close.”

“Huh. And I always thought Quill was just bein’ a dick with a made up insult.”

“Well, I can just…” Bruce did a quick image search for raccoons and handed his tablet to Rocket. “Those are raccoons. Earth raccoons. Not that you’re necessarily related, but…”

Rocket grabbed the device and immediately started scrolling through whatever Google had spit back. “Whoa. Whoa. What’s with the garbage-eating? Don’t you have real food on this planet? And… _whoa_ , she’s hot! How do I get in touch with _her_?” He turned the tablet so Bruce could see it. “Can’t find tail like that where I’m from!”

“Right,” Bruce answered, still not entirely sure what to say. The picture was just a raccoon in a generic North American forest that appeared to be from the National Geographic website, so he had no way of knowing how to send a message to her, short of contacting the website for details about…wait, what? Why was he considering how to get in touch with an anonymous wild animal? And how had he even ended up sitting in the palace alone with the strange alien raccoon? “Uh…”

“Hey, ya think if I met these raccoons they’d make me, like, their king or something? Transfer me all their credits?”

“Well, Earth raccoons don’t really, um, have credits?”

“No kidding? So how do they buy stuff?”

Fortunately, Thor surged around the corner at that moment. “Ah, friend Rabbit! I see you have become acquainted with Banner!”

“Uh-huh. He’s gonna help me become king of the raccoons.”

“Then you no longer wish to return to your pod to reunite with your loyal morons?”

“Nah, after that.” Rocket shot Bruce an exaggerated wink before walking toward Thor. “We goin’ now?”

“Indeed. I am eager to search for any of my people that Valkyrie and Korg were able to evacuate from the freighter before Thanos destroyed it.” Thor extended his hand toward Bruce. “Banner, please tell our friends that I will return when possible. Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, Thor. You too.” Bruce grasped Thor’s hand for a long moment. He vaguely remembered the massacre aboard the ship before Thanos had kicked the Hulk’s ass, but he pushed it from his mind. “Uh, say hi to Val for me. When you see her.”

“Perhaps we will be able to visit Midgard, now that Stormbreaker can summon the Bifrost.”

Bruce blinked, surprised to find himself tearing up. “Thor, I just want to say thanks, for everything. I would still be on Sakaar if you hadn’t…”

“Worry not. And many thanks to you too, my friend. Without your assistance, we would not have defeated my…”

“Don’t get all emotional, chumps” Rocket interrupted, thrusting Bruce’s tablet back into his hands, though a small blinking device was now attached to it. “Your screen thing has a comm link to my pod now, so we’ll be in contact. Y’know, if you need us.”

“Thank you.” Bruce smiled sadly as Thor and Rocket walked through the nearest door. The light of the Bifrost illuminated the room a moment later. Bruce sighed. Since stowing the Hulkbuster armor, he’d felt out of place in this technologically advanced society, and not in the ‘you don’t get it yet but you will in a second’ way he usually felt in Tony’s lab; Wakanda was a whole other level. He almost hoped he’d be allowed to stay and learn once everything was…

Was what? Fixed? Settled? How were they supposed to bounce back from half the life in the universe being wiped out? And what did that even mean, even just for Earth? Was it just half the human population? Or had they also lost half the dolphins and half the elephants? And what counted as life? Were half the trees now ash? Half the insects? Half the bacteria?

Before Bruce could think himself into a further existential crisis, Rhodey walked into the room. “Hey, there you are.”

“Yeah. I’m…” Where? How could he be sure he was still here? _Cogito ergo sum_? “Uh, right here.”

Rhodey, apparently unassailed by visions of Kierkegaard and Nietzsche spooning as they wept in the corner, plopped onto the sofa beside Bruce. “Ugh, I’ve been on the line with the US military for what feels like forever. I really shoulda retired from the Air Force before I became an Avenger. Oh, but if anyone is looking for good news, Secretary Ross is gone and the rest of the world is eager to get us all back, especially Natasha and Thor. They made a pretty big impression with that message they sent out.”

“Oh. Thor just left.”

“Like, _left_ , left or went to find a bathroom, left?”

“Um, he and Rocket went to find some morons with his axe.” When Rhodey stared at him blankly, Bruce elaborated in a totally unscientific manner, “He, um, summoned the rainbow bridge so he could go back to the ship that he and the talking raccoon were using before they came here.”

“Y’know, a few years ago, that would’ve sounded real weird to me.” Rhodey held up a string with a single bead like the one Shuri had used to scan Vision earlier. “But right now? I’ve got a code bead thing to get us into a guest suite for showers and sleep.”

A few minutes later, they had found the suite on an upper level of the palace and let themselves in. It was opulent, to say the least. Bruce had to stare out the panoramic windows that displayed a view over the city and the moonlit battlefield beyond for a good minute or two before he was ready to leave the living area. There seemed to be a number of bedrooms available in the suite, so he and Rhodey walked into the first one. “Wow. This is really…” he trailed off as he looked around the room.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Rhodey replied, looking equally impressed by the luxury of the space. “I can only imagine what room service is like.”

“Sure we can afford it?” Bruce asked, walking toward the door to the adjoining bedroom. He opened it, expecting to see another sumptuous bedroom, but he was met with a wave of steamy air. Before he could process what was happening, an image resolved before him. He’d accepted Natasha’s statement that she was engaged to Steve, but he’d never expected to be confronted by such a clear vision of a future he’d never expected. In spite of the foggy glass separating them, it was clear that Steve and Natasha were embracing in the shower, their bodies pressed together. Bruce managed to stammer, “S-s-sorry!” before slamming the door.

He looked over to Rhodey, who seemed to barely be containing laughter. “I think this room is taken.”


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha wasn’t terribly phased by Bruce’s momentary interruption of her and Steve’s shower, regardless of how much it made Steve blush. Sam had walked in on them in any number of compromising positions over the past months, but they also had a much different relationship with Sam. Trying not to think of Sam in the past tense, she wrapped a towel around her body and another around her head so she could confront a far more fearsome issue. She had been putting off a call to Clint for hours and it was getting to be more than she could bear. She needed to talk to him, or at least _know_. She told herself that she refused to consider that no one would pick up as she sat on the edge of the bed in the room that Bruce and Rhodey had recognized as ‘theirs’ the moment they’d realized that she and Steve were naked in its bathroom.

Holding up her phone – the old Nokia she’d been using all day still held a two-thirds charge, based on the number of solid black bars on the tiny digital battery on the screen, in spite of how many times she’d used it today – she called Maria again, rather than Clint. She had accepted hours ago that neither Maria nor Nick were going to pick up, no matter how many times she called them. Dialing Maria one more time was just an excuse to hear her friend’s voice asking for a name and brief message so she could get back to the caller as…

Natasha hung up without leaving a message that would never be retrieved. She wiped away a tear that threatened to fall and took a deep breath before selecting a different number.

The phone rang twice before connecting. There was only silence buzzing in her ear. She took a deep breath before saying, “Hello?”

There was a long pause before Clint said, “Go to hell, Romanoff.”

She took a deep breath before replying to his unexpected greeting. “Hello to you too.”

“Yeah, guess I shouldn’t have expected any fucking sympathy from the girl who saved the world.”

Confused by the characterization, she began, “Clint, I…”

“No, no. Please, tell me how hard you’ve had it over the past few hours with every fucking person on the planet bowing down to suck your dick. It’s been all over every station: ‘Avengers urge peace after extraterrestrial attack.’ Must be nice to stand there, knowing what the fuck is going on and sharing your knowledge with us little people.”

“I was just trying to…” she swallowed her guilt about the people she’d neglected to inform over the past hours, “we had to tell people…to tell everyone…”

“Yeah, I like telling people stuff, too.” That was a blatant lie, but she wasn’t about to interrupt as he ranted, “How about I tell you all about how I were sitting down to breakfast with my family and then they just turned to fucking dust over chocolate chip pancakes.”

His anger suddenly made perfect sense and hit her like a sucker punch to the gut. “Clint…no…

“No, you _listen_ because I’m _telling_ you what happened! Laura was just looking at me as I tried to give Nate some apple sauce and he just…dust. Bet she thought it was something I did, but she was gone a second later, so not like she had to blame me for it that long. Coop and Lila, they had time to see what was happening. ‘Daddy!’ they screamed, ‘Daddy save us!’ And before I could reach out to them they were dust, too! So now tell me how that happened to you!”

There was nothing she could say, nothing she could even imagine that would comfort her best friend in this moment. She waved off Steve’s alarm as he exited the bathroom. Tears were freely flowing down her face and she was making no attempt to wipe them away as she mumbled, “I’m so, so sorry.”

“You’re sorry? You’re _sorry_? My entire family disintegrated right in front of me and you’re fucking sorry? Oh, and I especially liked how you called to tell me what the fuck was going on before you showed up on TV to tell the whole world that everyone was dead.”

“That… I should have…” She shook her head at Steve, who was now kneeling in front of her. “I should have called sooner.”

“Yeah, that would have been really great, short of doing your damn job and stopping this from happening!”

“That’s not…” she bit off a defense based on the fact that she had actually been in the field, fighting while he’d been at home. _He’s grieving,_ she reminded herself. “We tried. We did. And I shouldn’t have left you hanging for so long. I owe you more than that.”

“Yeah, you fucking owe me a little something. No reason you couldn’t just drop a fucking dime to tell me why they all…just disappeared. We were eating pancakes and they just… Christ.” She gave him a moment, but it only served to get him yelling again, “But why would you even spare a thought for us when you could be talking to the whole fucking world? Being the goddamn hero your little boyfriend deserves.”

Unable to take his accusations anymore, she shouted back, “That’s not fair and it’s not why I didn’t call you first. Everything was happening so fast and it’s not like you’ve got any arrows with nuclear warheads, so…”

“I don’t want your shitty excuses, Romanoff,” he cut her off. “Laura and the kids are gone, even though you promised to protect them. How many times did you stand in our house and tell us that everything was gonna be just fine, huh? How many times did you lie to their faces?”

“Clint, I never…”

“Y’know, I should have shot you in the fucking face when I had the chance. Don’t call again.” The line surely disconnected before her gasp could be transmitted.

Her surprise didn’t escape Steve, of course. He was right there, standing and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. “Bad news?”

“Clint…” Her shoulders hitched involuntarily as a sob bubbled up through her body. “Steve, he lost everybody. Laura and the kids are all…”

“That’s not your fault.”

“Clint thinks it is.”

“Yeah, well, he’s angry. And he’s grieving. Just give him some time.” He gently pulled her toward the head of the bed so they could lie down. “We’ll call Clint back tomorrow. Maybe he’ll be willing to talk after sleeping on things.”

Natasha squirmed out of the towel still wrapped around her body and tossed it off the bed, wanting to feel the full warmth of Steve’s embrace as she buried her face in his chest as he pulled a blanket over them both. “He…he said he wished he’d killed me.”

“He didn’t mean that.” Steve’s reply was so confident that she knew he’d overheard at least part of Clint’s rant. “He’s your best friend and he doesn’t want that at all.”

“He did. He _does_. He thinks if he didn’t bring me into SHIELD, if he just shot me like he was supposed to…”

“You don’t believe that. If you weren’t around, who would have saved him from Loki’s mind control, huh? Who would have taken the cradle from Ultron and made Vision possible? Who would have saved all the people you’ve saved since he brought you in?” He dipped his head to bump his nose against hers. “Who would have saved me? Pulled me back into the world with old man jokes and movie nights?”

She sniffed. “I don’t think Clint’s your biggest fan right now.”

“I’m giving him a pass on the language and feelings right now. I can’t imagine what I’d be like right now if I’d lost you.”

“Stop being so sweet,” she murmured, though she agreed fully. She might be just as unhinged as Clint right now if Steve had turned to dust. She certainly wouldn’t have been able to consider the good of the world if her own personal one had disintegrated. She knew that she couldn’t do anything about what had happened, but she still felt guilty that she had put off calling Clint for so long. “I should have called him sooner. He was right about that.”

“Nat, you did what you thought was right.”

“No, I did what I thought was easy.” She turned in Steve’s arms, not wanting to face him right now. “I didn’t want to know who was really gone. I kept trying Maria and Nick because…two people…two unrelated people… I guess I could accept that, especially because we’ve all got dangerous jobs. But five Bartons still here? What were the odds? I knew at least one was dust.”

Steve’s arms tightened around her waist as he spooned her. “Nat…”

“No, it was…we were standing there knowing we lost Sam and we lost Wanda and T’Challa and…it was too much to ask that all the Bartons were safe. I just never expected…I never…” She turned her face into the pillow to conceal her tears, but he followed her, wrapping himself around her body to embrace her fully. The assurance of his strength allowed her to let go.

She stopped trying to suppress her sobs but let them burst out of her. She knew that she was crying not just for Clint and his lost family, but for all her lost friends, for all the lost people in the world. In the universe. She cried for Sam, whose smile was gone from their lives. She cried for Wanda, who would never check in late again because she was distracted by her love affair with Vision. She cried for Maria, who had been putting off the latest season of _Stranger Things_ until they could watch together. She cried because she thought about how Shuri had reacted to the loss of her brother and how Thor had been so subdued and how Steve…how Steve had taken so much responsibility on his own shoulders. He was like Atlas, doomed to hold up the sky for all eternity.

She suddenly turned back toward him, finding his lips in a fit of almost blind passion that nearly overwhelmed her. Steve was her whole world and she wouldn’t be here without him and she needed him and when had that happened? The questions flitted through her mind as she kissed him, but none of them provided a good reason to stop kissing him.

His own passion seemed to equal hers until his grasp on her hip prevented her from grinding against him. His gaze was gentle as he pulled back. “I’m sorry, Nat. I just…” He adjusted his hips to conceal his physiological reaction. “I just…it’s not a good time.”

“I know, Steve.” She settled back into a comfortable position in the bed, allowing him time before he pulled her back against his body. She was able to fall asleep in his arms not long afterwards, thankful for the solid body still holding her.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve wasn’t able to fall asleep easily as he replayed Natasha’s conversation with Clint in his head. He stroked her hair gently as he thought about Clint saying that he should have shot her. Steve knew deep down that Clint didn’t really mean it and would likely feel even worse when he realized how cruelly he’d wounded his best friend from the self-involved depths of his grief, but the actual loss Clint had suffered was so far beyond Steve’s comprehension that he felt like he was in no position to judge, no matter how much he wanted to protect Natasha. It was probably for the best that Clint was currently on the other side of the world.

What Steve did understand was that they were both exhausted enough to surrender to fatigue. Natasha had managed to doze off against his chest not long after they’d curled up together in the bed. He knew that he should do likewise, but the serum, with its tendency toward greater energy reserves, allowed him to think himself into madness by preventing him from turning off his thought processes when he was really wound up about something; it was one of the more annoying aspects of his enhancement, a high step above the inability to drink away his problems. He untangled his fingers from her hair and tightened his arm around her. She reflexively snuggled closer to him in her sleep.

The real problem lay with the fact that he simply couldn’t picture a universe in which Auntie Nat wasn’t an integral part of the Barton family. She missed them all the time, but talked about them only when pressed and kept no pictures for their safety. Even if he’d had the opportunity to see them with her only once, he knew that the kids viewed Auntie Nat as a family member. If nothing else, he knew what it felt like to lose family members, though his most recent losses only included friends. True, Sam was essentially his brother and Bucky was like his only living family but Natasha…

Natasha was his life, his connection to the world. If he lost her he couldn’t…

…couldn’t…

He clutched her even closer as she slept in his arms. He could be strong for _her_. He could allow her time to grieve her lost family while he handled the leadership duties. Seeing her so upset while she was on the phone with Clint had given him the kick in the ass he’d needed to remember that, no matter what any government said, he was Captain America and the leader of the Avengers. It was his responsibility to step up no matter how difficult the circumstances. He wasn’t going to allow her to stand alone before the cameras of the planet again.

Comforted by his internal resolution, he eventually nodded off.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he awoke to knocking on the door, but it was dark outside the windows. Hadn’t it just been sunset? Before he had blinked himself awake enough to speak, Natasha had called out, “Yeah?”

Rhodey’s voice carried through the door, “Don’t mean to interrupt anything, but the UN is organizing an emergency session in New York ASAP and they want us there. Don’t know if you heard yet, but Ross is dust. Anyway, diplomatic status has been extended for you guys under the aegis of the Wakandan government, so…you guys are coming, right?”

To his own surprise, Steve said in a strong voice, “We’ll be there. Just give us a few minutes to get dressed.” He glanced down at Natasha a moment later and whispered, “That’s okay, right?”

“There’s my soldier,” she replied, pressing a kiss against his lips. “But you probably shouldn’t have made any promises about us getting dressed, because all our stuff is still on the jet.”

They were aboard their quinjet less than twenty minutes later, having said hasty goodbyes to their Wakandan friends with promises to be in close contact. Okoye had suggested that she accompany them, but Shuri had nearly broken down at the suggestion. For all her scientific acumen, she was still just a kid shoved into a serious situation. Queen Ramonda had taken her daughter in hand while reminding the Avengers that the Wakandan ambassador to the UN, a man named Bulumko, would be there to greet them in New York before telling them they would be expected at Shuri’s coronation ceremony.

Rhodey took over piloting duties as Steve and Natasha changed from the bright Wakandan robes they’d found in the closet, the only clothes they’d had available in their room, into civilian clothes from their bags stashed aboard the jet. Steve wasn’t sure he was dressed appropriately for an appearance at the UN, but at least he didn’t smell like alien blood or look like he was playing dress-up. Nothing against the Wakandan clothing – it was beautiful (especially on Natasha) and exquisitely made, but he felt much more comfortable in his own familiar clothing.

Comfort was probably a stretch at the moment. He buttoned the wrinkled blue shirt from his duffel, hoping the unkempt appearance would be hidden under a less-wrinkled blazer. He concentrated on knotting his tie into an acceptable Windsor and wished there were a mirror on the jet as he shrugged the jacket over his shoulders. If only he’d thought to have his suit – his _real_ suit – cleaned, he could just walk into the UN as Captain America, maybe start issuing orders. He ducked his head bashfully at the thought. He wasn’t about to overstep any lines, especially when he was heading home without the prospect of immediate arrest.

Natasha suddenly appeared in front of him, wearing an impeccable black skirt and jacket with an equally flattering dark red shirt. He blurted, “How did you do that?”

“Do what?” she asked, reaching out to undo and retie his tie.

“Get all…” When words failed him, he made a vague gesture with his hands to indicate her general appearance. She’d wasn’t wearing her catsuit, but she’d lost none of her deadly sophistication. She looked completely put together with her clothing fitting just so and her hair and makeup perfect. He swept his eyes up and down her body again, from her black heels to her smooth blonde hair, taking her in. “You look amazing.”

She grasped his lapels as she rose to her tiptoes to kiss him. When she pulled back he breathed, “Oh, Nat…”

“Shh. We’ll make up for everything. I promise.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what had to be made up as Rhodey announced that they were about to land outside UN Headquarters, but he took a deep breath and adjusted his tie again as the ramp started to come down.

* * *

Natasha wasn’t sure what she’d expected when she stepped off the quinjet in New York, but it certainly wasn’t Pepper Potts rushing at her to wrap her in a crushing hug. After a moment, Natasha returned the embrace, nodding to Happy Hogan over Pepper’s shoulder that everything was alright. Pepper was chanting into her neck, “Thank God you’re okay, thank God you’re okay.”

After few long moments, she let Natasha go and moved on to clasping Bruce while repeating the same mantra. Natasha turned to Happy. “Any word from Stark?”

“Nothing,” he squawked in a high-pitched tone, before swallowing hard and continuing in his usual voice, “Uh, FRIDAY’s been monitoring all the channels, but so far…”

The voice of Tony’s AI came from a device on Happy’s wrist, “Mr. Stark is not currently within sensor range.”

“Yeah, that,” Happy concluded with a pout that almost made Natasha want to hug him.

Instead, she looked over her shoulder to see that Steve was just escaping a hug from Pepper, who had moved on to Rhodey. Natasha reached toward Steve, who immediately reciprocated, grasping her hand as he arrived at her side. She had transferred her Claddagh and engagement rings to her hand when she’d changed clothes and felt them digging into her fingers now. It had been weeks since she’d noticed them, so it was probably only because he was squeezing her hand so tightly.

A man in a dark suit and colorfully patterned sash suddenly approached from the knot of greeters that hung back around the spot from which Pepper had launched herself. He raised an outstretched hand, “I am Ambassador Bulumko and I am very pleased to meet you.” After they introduced themselves, he went on, “Queen Ramonda has instructed me to make all our resources available to you, so, please, do not hesitate to contact me with any requests, concerns, anything you may need.”

To Natasha’s surprise, Steve replied, “Thank you, sir. We understand that we are officially here under the invitation of the Wakandan government and we will do our best to uphold that honor.”

As Ambassador Bulumko stepped away to greet Bruce and Rhodey, she whispered to Steve, “Look at you, Mr. Diplomat.”

It was the last chance they had to speak semi-privately as they were then swept up in international politics for the next hours. As it turned out, Pepper had proven invaluable in maintaining order in New York City in the wake of ‘the erasure,’ as the American and subsequently world English-speaking media had dubbed Thanos’ act. Stark Industries had promptly deployed its remaining security elements and other assets to assist the NYPD and NYFD, prompting other corporations to follow suit. New York was currently as safe as it was on any other day, a major accomplishment in the wake of what had happened. Additionally, it turned out that Natasha and Thor’s plea for aid had resulted in doctor, nurses, emergency personnel and others the world over rushing to their workplaces. At the current hour, it appeared that casualties related to secondary injuries and incidents were much lower than anyone had expected.

It would have been really, really wonderful at this moment if Thor hadn’t been so damn honorable and had stayed on Earth rather than helping his raccoon friend and looking for his own people. Thor was the kind of person who should be standing at the podium in the United Nations General Assembly Hall, telling the world that everything was going to be okay as long as peace was maintained and countries and individuals aided each other where they could. People would believe that kind of sentiment coming from a man like Thor. There was no reason for them to listen raptly as the Black Widow delivered the same sentiments, repeated the summary of events that had led them to this moment, advised cooperation, and encouraged peace. Why would anyone believe that she wanted to minimize further death or save the rest of the world?

There was even less reason for the hall to rise as one in a standing ovation as she concluded her impromptu remarks. She fought to maintain her neutral mask as she looked out over the assembly, an audience of thousands applauding what any sane person would have said, given the circumstances. She didn’t deserve, didn’t _want_ this recognition…

Steve was suddenly at her side, hand on her back providing a subtle support in addition to the reminder that there was nowhere to imperceptibly escape. He raised a hand and waved like an implacable world leader. They maintained the calm façade as they descended the dais and walked out of the hall, until they were safe inside the equivalent of the green room and she turned to bury her face in his chest. “What the hell just happened?”

“I’m pretty sure you just won the Nobel Peace Prize.”

She was in no mood to be cocooned. “Steve…”

“I’m not kidding.” He tilted her chin up, holding her gaze with his uncomplicated sincerity. “I know you think that someone would have said the right thing, but the fact is that _you_ said it. Just look at what people are saying…” He waved toward the TVs broadcasting news reports from around the world. She was the lead story on all of them. From the languages she understood, the coverage was uniformly positive. What the hell? Why wasn’t anyone reminding the viewing public that she was an untrustworthy spy who killed anyone her current government organization requested her to kill?

“I don’t…”

“You’re amazing,” Steve cut her off. “Never doubt that.”

Before she could formulate an eloquent argument about her own shady origins, she was again wrapped in an unexpected embrace. “Natasha! That was incredible!”

She turned toward Pepper, who looked much more composed than she had earlier, in spite of the unsolicited hugging. “Thanks?”

Pepper stepped back, brushing her hands down her own dark suit. “Okay, now that you’re established as the world’s peacemaker…”

“The what?”

“Don’t pretend you aren’t listening. Every asshole currently planning to seize power heard the speech you just made and you can bet they’re planning to challenge the Avengers soon. So what are you gonna do?”

Natasha, suddenly feeling like she was in the right place, charged up the Widow’s Bites hidden under her sleeves. “Who’re we fighting?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Sorry, you all deserve more words but I'm just...I mean...why do they schedule semesters so close together? I'm trying. I promise. This will probably go on beyond Captain Marvel (soon!!) and Endgame (OMG!!!!1!!), but...whatever. Imma keep writing.

In spite of the readiness of the Remaining Avengers (Natasha had the feeling that they would be going back to just the Avengers rather than the depressing update) to get into the world and distribute some hits to deserving assholes, the immediate call to action had turned into a DEFCON 3 ‘wait and see’ situation while local forces determined threat levels. As a result, the group had been directed into further hours of answering redundant questions from both the international community and the press at the UN. They were lucky to have escaped to the townhouse on Park Avenue where Stark and Pepper had set up housekeeping in New York after selling Stark Tower. Happy was handling security for their quinjet, which would be flown upstate to Avengers HQ as soon as their baggage had been unloaded.

Natasha hadn’t commented on the fact that they’d just picked up most of it from HQ only a day or two before. She would definitely not be reminding anyone of how much had changed in just that short time.

She took a deep breath to collect herself and slipped out of her jacket, dropping it on the back of one of the sofas in Pepper’s living room as Steve collapsed on it with a loud exhalation. She was careful not to cuddle up beside him or place her blessedly unshod feet in his lap as she took her seat beside him. There had been no word from Tony yet and the last thing she wanted to do was remind Pepper of her own missing fiancé.

For her part, Pepper was currently filling the silence as she poured out glasses of wine on a wide sideboard. Now that she was out of the public eye and taking a brief break from managing SI’s crisis interventions, she was monologuing like she was trying to replace the verbal void resulting from Tony’s absence. “…and I picked up this Sauv blanc at a vineyard in New Zealand while I was on a business trip. The owner gave me a case as a gift after I drank something from his place at the meeting, which turned out to be a waste of time other than the wine itself, because no one in Auckland was interested in our nanotech. Anyway, it’s supposed to be the vineyard’s private reserve and I was saving it for a special occasion, but…well, what’s not special about seeing you guys again?” she concluded with a sob as she slammed the empty wine bottle on the countertop. “I’m just so glad you’re here and you’re okay!”

Bruce, who was closest to her, pulled her into a hug with a murmur about how Tony was still alive out there, annoying the aliens on whatever planet that spaceship had taken him to. Natasha carefully leaned away from Steve. After a few moments, Pepper pushed Bruce away gently and cleared her throat. “No time for that now. We should be focusing on the positive. Oh! I didn’t tell you yet that Erik Selvig has been in touch and he’s eager to see Thor, along with someone called Darcy, though apparently Jane Foster didn’t…” She took a moment to swallow hard before continuing, “Anyway, be sure to tell Thor about Dr. Selvig and Darcy when you speak to him. And Helen Cho called from Seoul to offer her clinic’s services anywhere they may be needed.” Natasha tried to interject about how glad she was to hear about Dr. Cho, but Pepper just went on, “Secretary Ross is gone, but there’s an Agent Ross who apparently dealt with you all before and he knows people in Wakanda, so he’s been calling via Ambassador Bulumko’s office. And… who else do you all know?”

She picked up one of the five wineglasses she’d filled and drained it in a single gulp. “A woman named May Parker has been calling looking for her nephew, Peter, who is apparently that Spider-Boy that Tony’s been mentoring or something. No idea how she got our number but I suppose he… Do you think he knew he was dealing with a kid?”

Natasha bit her lip and gave Steve a severe look to deter him from answering either. Rhodey may have muttered something about Star Wars.

Pepper went on as if they had all voiced their bolstering opinions, “I know. You’re right. You’re _so_ right. What would he care about putting a kid in danger? I mean, he only got on a spaceship that went off God knows where, even though he _promised_ me…” She picked up another of the wineglasses and swallowed its contents. “I can’t _believe_ he actually did this. We were standing in the park talking about our wedding one minute and then… Did he know what was coming or did he just…God!” She grabbed a third wineglass and gestured vaguely to the room before throwing it back. Bruce shot a panicked look at them over her shoulder.

Steve was out of his seat in a nanosecond, wrapping Pepper in his strong embrace before she could fall apart or drink the entire bottle of wine on her own. As he gently pried the empty glass from Pepper’s fingers, Natasha could just make out his murmuring, “Nobody on Earth understood what Thanos was planning. Tony was just trying to do the right thing, the same thing we’re all trying to do. And you can bet that if he’s out there, he’s doing his damnedest to get home to you.”

Though Natasha caught Rhodey’s eye and simultaneously mouthed ‘Language,’ neither of them said it out loud; it wasn’t the right moment for running jokes. She wasn’t sure when the moment for any jokes would come back, but least she was on the same page as one of her teammates.

At the moment, she was more interested in the fact that Steve was carefully convincing Pepper that she should get some sleep though he absolutely misread the situation a moment later when he suggested, “Nat, maybe you can help Pepper settle in?”

Bastard. Sexy, puppy-eyed bastard. She kept the accusation from her expression as she rose and stepped back into her heels. “Come on, Pepper.”

Ever the solicitous host, Pepper knocked back a fourth glass of wine before she looked over her shoulder while Natasha guided her toward the stairs, “There are guest bedrooms on the third floor and plenty of liquor in the cabinet, so make yourselves comfortable!”

Pepper was somewhat unsteady as she started up the stairs, so Natasha set a firm hand on the small of her back for support. She continued up the stairs toward the fourth floor when they reached the landing, so Natasha followed, now providing some forward momentum. She was providing the majority of upward force by the time they reached the top of the stairs. Fortunately, they stopped before the next flight and walked down the wide hallway toward an open door at the end. The bedroom was spacious but almost homey, far less modern than the house in Malibu that Natasha had become accustomed to so long ago. The past was such a quagmire at the moment; better to focus on making the present palatable. Pulling out a Steve-ism, Natasha said, “A good night’s sleep will do you a world of good.”

“I know. I _know_. I just haven’t had the time…”

“Yeah,” Natasha replied with a near-smile. She had barely had a moment to herself since…no, that wasn’t true. She’d had time when she’d been healing in Shuri’s machine and with Steve in the shower and in bed and… “Pepper, you can’t hold the world together on your own. You’ve already done more than anyone could have expected. You have to take time to rest. And grieve.”

“Even though I don’t believe he’s dead?”

“I’m not talking about Tony. I’m talking about everyone.” Natasha sat the other woman down on the large bed and bent down to pull off her shoes. She was careful to be gentle rather than accusatory as she said, “You can’t tell me that you didn’t lose family and friends the other day that you probably haven’t given yourself more than a second to think about.”

“It’s…it’s just…God, I still have to call my cousins. I mean, Meghan – she’s my surviving assistant – has been in contact with them so I know who’s…you know, but I should really talk to them myself so they know I’m not just…”

Natasha pulled the phone out of Pepper’s hand; she would have a suit tailored with real pockets instead of just flaps. “You’ve done so much since…since The Erasure?” The name the media had adopted for Thanos’ snap had yet to enter Natasha’s vernacular. “Pepper, you need to just…take a bath or something. And sleep.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow and frowned. “It could not be more obvious that you didn’t go to college and live in an all-female dorm.”

Unsure of where the statement had come from, Natasha tipped her head to the side and replied, “Yeah, I’m not a Wellesley alum. Shocker.”

The other woman giggled as she shimmied out of her pantyhose at Natasha’s prompting. She realized that Pepper was actually a bit tipsy on her quickly consumed wine as she went on, “I just meant that you’re not exactly the kind of woman to provide comfort after a…not that Tony and I have broken up, because we haven’t, but…how do you even respond when your superhero fiancé leaves the planet in order to prevent some megalomaniacal alien from eliminating half the life in the universe? I mean, how do you feel when you see Steve out there punching deadly aliens? It’s…how can anyone deal with that bullshit?”

“No idea.” Natasha frowned as she ducked her head, not wanting to bring up her own relationship in light of the uncertainty in Pepper’s life. Best to just put the poor lightweight to bed and escape. Natasha helped her out of her suit jacket. “I just meant…everyone has to accept what’s happened on their own terms. We can’t change the past, so we have to make the best of the future, right?”

“Yes, that sounds about right, coming from you.”

“Pepper…”

“No, I’m not an idiot. I know that you and Steve have something amazing going on and you still get to be with him right now. The future sounds amazing for you. I just…you have to think in terms of individuals right now and not couples, okay?” She didn’t bother to undress further, slipping under the covers in her shirt and skirt. “I… Wait, what was I saying?”

“No idea,” Natasha replied, this time honestly. “Just get some sleep. You’ll feel rested in the morning.”

As she was closing the door after switching off the bedside lamp, she heard Pepper mumble, “Thanks for not lying.”

“Hm?”

“You said rested. Not better.”

“Sleep well, Pepper. We’re here if you need anything.”

Natasha took the vague sound that followed as assent and closed the door with a soft click. She returned to the first floor, where she could hear quiet conversation. Rhodey was saying, “…but there’s only four of us at the moment. Four Avengers in a world where everyone who wants to is putting a target on our backs. I just don’t think it’s smart to put ourselves out there as the front line right now.”

“We’ve managed ops with just four before. Heck, Nat and I have been running them with just us and Sam for over a year. And we were doing it with no backup.”

“Yeah, but you always knew…”

“What’d we know, Rhodes?”

Natasha stepped into the room just in time to plant a hand against Steve’s chest and glance at Rhodey. “Sit.”

Her presence seemed to calm the room, an odd sensation that she suspected she would have to get used to. Rhodey sighed as he sank back into his armchair. “I was just saying that while I think we can help, we shouldn’t have to do all the heavy lifting.”

“Then why didn’t you just _say_ that!” Steve exclaimed, huffing into his wineglass. He _would_ be the one to take the last of the proffered drinks while everyone else got their preferred ones. Rhodey was currently nursing what looked like a whiskey while Bruce drank from a can of soda and fiddled with his phone.

Not feeling particularly self-conscious, Natasha pulled a bottle of vodka from under the sideboard and poured herself a generous measure, setting the bottle down beside the assuredly expensive Scotch that Tony liked. “So, what are we arguing about?”

Steve and Rhodey launched into their positions simultaneously.

“We’re the first line of defense that the Earth has at the moment…”

“We can’t be expected to handle every single emergency that…”

“Stop!” Natasha declared, raising her hand. To her diminishing surprise, both men did. She poured herself another drink and returned to her seat beside Steve. “So are we debating whether we’re immediately heading to the hottest spot we can with guns blazing or whether we’re going to huddle at Avengers’ HQ until a new world order emerges?”

“That’s not what I was suggesting,” Rhodey immediately protested; Steve would likely have done the same if she hadn’t been digging her fingers into his thigh. “I just think we should allow local forces to attempt any interventions before we jump in. Is that so radical?”

“That’s SOP, as I’m sure others only need reminding,” Natasha replied while eyeing Steve.

“That’s _fine_.” He finished his wine in a gulp. “I just…I think we need to be visible. People should see that we’re not sitting on the sidelines. We need to show the world that we’re still fighting for them so they’ll keep fighting for themselves.”

Rhodey chuckled. “No offense, Nat, but how was he not the one speaking to the UN?”

“Well, it all started when I didn’t think it was fair to Thor to have to carry both of us to the palace in Wakanda…”

“Uh, speaking of Wakanda,” Bruce waved his phone as he spoke up for the first time since she had returned, “Shuri has been examining Vision and she thinks she might be able to reactivate him. He won’t have the Mind Stone, but…should I tell her to try?”

Natasha frowned, but Steve was quick to agree.

A few minutes later, she got him alone as it was decided that rest would be a good idea for everyone. She barely waited until he had closed the door of their guestroom to ask, “Is it really fair to Vision that he’s reactivated?”

“What do you…?”

“He sacrificed himself, Steve. He gave his life thinking that he was saving us all. Don’t you think it will be,” she paused for a moment, but found there wasn’t a good word for what she wanted to express. She settled on, “It will difficult if he suddenly wakes up and finds out that, not only is he without the Mind Stone, which – I mean, we don’t even know how much of him was tied into that – and then he finds out that he died for nothing and Wanda is gone and everything…”

She met his eyes and found that he was looking at her with alarm. “Are you saying it’s better to be dead?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m saying that maybe it’s better not to return from the dead.”

Steve looked as if she’d shaken him to his core; she tried not to think that she was calling his entire belief structure into question from Catholicism up. Attempting a quick recovery, she continued, “Not that I’m saying Vision is Jesus or whatever, just…I don’t want you to see Vision come back and think you can do that for everyone.”

“What if we can?”

“Steve…”

“No, I’ve been thinking. If Thanos could use all six Infinity Stones to turn everyone to dust, what’s to stop us from using them to reverse that?”

“Maybe the fact that we don’t know where he is? Or how to use them?”

“We could learn, Nat. If we could bring everyone back…”

“They’d what? Come back to a world in utter chaos? Find out their loved ones were killed in plane crashes and car accidents after it happened? Go back to their lives like they haven’t skipped a few months or years where they were dead?”

Steve hung his head. “I haven’t really worked out the details yet. I just…it has to be possible, right?”

“I have no idea.” Natasha pulled him into an embrace and whispered into his ear, “I just know that we need to do what we can for the people who are _here_ , _now_.”

“Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”

“But?”

He breathed heavily into her hair. “I just…I can’t believe they’re all really gone.”

“I know, Steve.” She didn’t really think she had grasped the full implications of The Erasure or thought about how to reverse it; she just knew that she was capable of reacting to their new reality. She repeated, “I know. We should get some sleep.”

As they settled into bed, she wondered how long it would be before their intimacy could move back from just emotional to physical. Not just yet, obviously. She still appreciated his solid, warm body in her arms.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve was trying to stay awake, he honestly was, but he had no head for the kind of statistics that Bruce was currently spouting during his preparation for a television interview. This rehearsal was starting to get really tiresome, especially since both the War Machine and Hulkbuster armors had been fully repaired and he no longer had an excuse to slip away after the first twenty minutes. The major networks had been pressuring the Avengers (via Pepper, who was acting as their media liaison in addition to all her other responsibilities) to set up a interview for the past few days since they had returned to HQ, ready to respond to a call-out that had yet to come as local forces settled international and domestic conflicts. Steve and Natasha had spent a day in DC to bury the hatchet with State, strategize with the DOD and participate in a photo-op with President Reed to demonstrate that the superheroes were on the same page as the superpower.

Other than that, it had been almost dull, which explained why everyone currently at HQ was gathered in the main kitchen, watching Bruce sweat bullets as he was interviewed by Natasha’s slow-blinking network anchor persona. She was currently sitting on a high stool at the breakfast bar, chin on her fist and extending a banana across the counter as she asked Bruce for the sixth time, “And why did the Avengers ask you to represent them on our program tonight?”

“Well, I…Nat, can you put down the banana?” he protested. “It’s distracting!”

Her professional demeanor immediately dissolved into a chuckle. “I’m just trying to get you to relax a little.”

“Yeah, Brucie,” Darcy piped up, jamming a second banana and an apple at him. “How are you gonna feel when Blondie McNewsie shoves a whole handful of microphones uncomfortably close to your face?”

“But, I thought…they’re just going to give me a lapel mike or hang a boom or something, aren’t they?”

“Probably, but we’re getting you prepared for the pressure cooker, remember?” Natasha replied. “Now where were we?”

Steve tuned out again as the serious interview resumed. For reasons probably related to everyone else’s reputations as straight weapons specialists and muscle, Bruce had been pressed into service as their scientific spokesman in Tony’s absence; at least he could justify his use of the Hulkbuster armor as a collaborator of Tony’s and an associate of Stark Industries without revealing himself to the world as the actual Hulk. He was taking it in mostly stride, as long as a teleprompter was provided and silly props were limited.

It was true that they could have been represented by Erik Selvig, who had arrived within hours of their own relocation upstate and was assisting with the content of the information, but he had apparently been filmed ranting and naked at Stonehenge (for some reason) and his television appearance had been vetoed by Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster’s assistant who apparently moonlighted as some sort of…all controlling excitement banshee? She was certainly looking right at home where she was sitting beside Natasha at the counter. Steve suspected that Natasha was harboring an eyerolling sort of affection for Darcy under her usual standoffish exterior, possibly related to the loss of Maria. He hadn’t suggested any such connection, content with not discussing that friendship on the premise that Natasha would counter with his own suppressed emotions regarding Sam’s absence. It was much easier to just bury the past and smile at the snarky enthusiasm of the almost overwhelmingly energetic girl.

This enthusiasm _could_ be a bit much, considering that Darcy had also declared herself their communications director and commandeered their one device that could be used to communicate with Thor for her (mostly) exclusive use the moment she arrived. Steve wasn’t entirely clear on the role Darcy was fulfilling, just that things seemed to flow a little smoother with her around. And at least they knew that Thor was now traveling the universe with the raccoon and a dwarf he knew, still searching for both his own people and the raccoon’s ‘morons.’ Darcy was keeping the team updated about this at any rate.

Rhodey was currently sitting beside him at the dining table, patiently watching the proceedings, though he may have just perfected his ‘meeting demeanor’ in the notoriously bureaucratic Air Force. Steve glanced to his side and confirmed that the chair was unoccupied, no one to whisper a sarcastic comment in his ear about the proceedings before cooking up a feast.

He sadly turned his attention back to Natasha as she suggested, “Maybe you could explain to our viewers exactly what you mean by the truly random pattern of disappearances that we have seen.”

“Right. Of course, I’d be happy to. So, if this were a situation where…” Bruce stood and began drawing lines and stick figures on the whiteboard that they’d pulled out of the lab in lieu of network graphics or…super science images? Steve didn’t interrupt about the low-tech presentation as Bruce completed his box of doodles. “Yeah, right. So if you think about a nuclear family with two parents and two children, okay? Just as an example, I mean. If we take 100 of these families, we would expect,” he suddenly drew several slashes across the box “Right, so, in a statistically perfect world, 50% of these families would have lost a parent and a child, 25% would have lost both parents and 25% would have lost both children.” He turned away from the whiteboard, swallowing noticeable before he repeated, “Statistically.”

Natasha deployed her slow-blink exactly like any network anchor would at such a cold breakdown. “That’s awfully…I don’t want to say unfeeling, but…”

Bruce stared at her like a deer in headlights that was actually being confronted on live TV. “I would never…the fact that some of these families were completely erased, while others lost a few members while others were untouched… I don’t want to undercut anyone’s personal tragedy. I know that math doesn’t really matter when you’re coping with personal loss, I just want everyone to know that the pure math tells us that this was truly a random event. When we’re dealing with numbers this huge…we…the statistical analysis holds, but with the scale…so many people…”

“Deep breath,” Natasha counseled, herself again for a moment. Steve couldn’t help but sigh as he watched her encourage a teammate. She hadn’t been especially attentive to Bruce since returning to HQ, but there was still a nagging jealousy when Steve saw them together. It was stupid and so unnecessary. He trusted her and knew she would never, ever…not that they’d spent any time in the presence of a potential romantic rival in the time they’d been together and…shit…

He took at least three deep breaths before opening his eyes again as Bruce went on, “What I’m trying to say is that I think it’s important to recognize that no one was personally targeted and no particular population was singled out. The Erasure was truly random, with no regard to I think this explains why a city like Copenhagen lost nearly 65% of its population while Pretoria only lost 37%.”

“I’m sorry. Are you saying that anyone who hasn’t lost more than two family members should be grateful?”

“What? No! Grief is a natural reaction when anyone sustains a loss. It’s just that…statistics don’t really consider how anyone feels. I know that the total number of losses is unimaginable, but the actual demographics are truly random. I know that doesn’t offer comfort to anyone, but…”

“You really need to relax, Bruce,” Natasha said, definitively dropping her news anchor voice. “You were doing really well when you focused on the statistics.”

“Really?”

“Really. You need to focus on not letting them drag you into an emotional debate about the people who were lost. We know that everyone has lost someone. We just have to get them to understand that there was no, I don’t know…equation? algorithm?...for what happened. It just happened.”

“Okay.” Bruce nodded as if he understood clearly before his expression dissolved into confusion again. “And how do I do that?”

“Did I not just compliment you on your command of math?”

He pushed several pieces of paper around the counter in front of him. “No. I mean, you did, but…”

A welcome interruption came when Darcy reached for the phone handset beeping on the counter in front of her. “Avengers’ World Savers, how may I direct your call? Uh-huh. Right. Sure can.” She pressed the phone against her chest, stage whispering, “Yo, someone from the CIA named Sharon Carter who says she knows you guys is on the phone for one of you super-types.”

Although Steve extended his hand, Natasha was sitting right beside Darcy and grabbed the phone. “Hi, Sharon, it’s Natasha. Yeah, good to hear your voice, too.” She stood and walked across the room so he could no longer hear her side of the conversation. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Not that he had any feelings for Sharon, any more than Natasha had feelings for Bruce. He really needed to put this nonsense out of his head. So their limited social circle contained some awkwardness. No reason for…

The phone was suddenly pressed into his hand while Natasha looked down expectantly. He managed a to raise it to his hear and say, “Sharon?”

“Steve!” Before he could react further, she continued, “I’ve been meaning to call, but things have been absolutely crazy here. I mean, if the Avengers wanted to visit Langley, it might really…shit, but I can’t tell you how good it is to know that both you and Natasha survived The Erasure. I know, it’s a terrible name but we had nothing to do with it and it’s the best we’ve got at the moment.”

Steve found himself unable to reply. Natasha had told him that she’d spoken to Sharon over a year and a half ago about the fact that he’d kissed her in a moment of desperation and it was clear that kiss had meant nothing, but it had still been more than a year since Steve himself had been in contact with Sharon and…

She suddenly asked, “Hey, Steve? Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” he eventually managed. “Guess I’m just surprised to hear from someone I know. I mean, that I haven’t already talked to yet.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me about that. The other day I talked to my sophomore year roommate for the first time in years. I mean, I transferred to Hopkins after a year at Vanderbilt and had to suffer a…yeah, you don’t want to hear about my weeaboo roomie. How are _you_ doing?”

“Uh…guess I’m doing about as well as anyone.”

She laughed somewhat cynically. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Sharon, I really…”

“Don’t worry, Steve. Miserable is the state of most people at the moment. Tell Natasha I’m going to call back to tell her about the new Russian revolution once we’ve got more details. Apparently there’s a growing minority that want to bring back the monarchy. One guess as to who they want to crown as their tsarina.”

He had a moment of serious consideration before he realized that Sharon was making a joke. “You really think I’m that gullible?”

“Not at all. The CIA monitors all foreign political activities. Just because it was only twelve hundred people marching on the Kremlin today doesn’t mean it won’t turn into a full-fledged movement.”

“I’ll be sure to…or I’ll let you tell it.”

“I’m not kidding that it’s good to know you’re still here, Steve.”

He swallowed hard. “Sharon, I…”

“Don’t take that as anything more than I’m glad you’re not dust, okay?”

“Right. Same to you. I mean…thanks, Sharon.”

As he hung up the phone, he discovered that Darcy had declared news rehearsal over and herded everyone over to the dining table. “Alright, chill time. Do you guys have any board games or something around here? Not Monopoly ‘cause that always results in blood feuds, but, like Cranium or something? Maybe?”

Rhodey plucked her elbow. “I think I’ve seen a Scrabble set around somewhere.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, Rhodes Warrior!” They were halfway down the hall when Darcy’s shout echoed back to the kitchen, “But I get to be the dictionary overlord!”

Bruce practically bolted with a murmur about seeing what Dr. Selvig was up to in the lab, leaving Steve and Natasha by themselves at the table for a moment. She barely waited until they were alone to say, “Are we going to be weird from now on?”

“Um…what? I mean…how so?”

The gaze she leveled at him was enough to tell him he wouldn’t be able to dumb-cute his way out of this. “Steve, we’ve been walking on eggshells around each other since we got back to HQ. I wanted to give you a little space if this was something you just needed to ease into on top of everything that’s happening, but…the way you were clenching your jaw when I was interviewing Bruce makes me think I’m focusing on the wrong baggage.”

He heaved a sigh and looked away. “Sorry. I’m just…I know there’s nothing there. I know it. I just…I can’t help thinking…”

“How much it would hurt if you lost me now?” She lifted his chin as she leaned toward him. “What? You think I grabbed that phone when I heard it was Sharon calling just because I really wanted to hear what’s happening at the CIA?”

“Really? I mean…it’s not really the same, but…”

“But what? Bruce and I spent a couple of weeks flirting, kissed once and then he disappeared. Why are you so threatened by that?”

“Because…” Steve took a moment to think about the answer and came up with a very mature, “ _Because_.”

“Because we’ve been living in a bubble where it’s just us and you’re not used to so many other people asking for my time and you know it’s a stupid excuse to be…”

“Bat signal!” Darcy screamed as she charged back into the kitchen. “It’s the Bat Signal! They need you guys in…Mexico City! Vamanos!”

Steve hoped he’d have a real response for Natasha by the time they got back from wherever the Avengers had been summoned.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex in the second section of the chapter, so you are forewarned!

Natasha dove behind a colossal chain and conveyor-type machine in the abandoned tractor factory outside Voronezh, bullets pinging harmlessly against the metal several feet away from her position. They obviously weren’t dealing with a well-trained group. She tossed a frag grenade in the general direction of fire and took a deep breath when it stopped after the detonation. Just the morons with automatic weapons, then. She allowed her head to drop back for a  moment, her gaze taking in the high, rusting rafters of the Stalinist-era facility. Places like this haunted her memories, identical sites where she’d completed proficiency training for her seven-year-old elusiveness and ten-year-old marksmanship in the Red Room. She forced herself to focus on the present, but no one was currently shooting. There was barely any sound, beyond the thud of heartbeat and the constant drip of water from the leaking roof.

She took the time to catch her breath and methodically reload her weapons, pressing each bullet into the clip with a soft metallic click, having already gone through her preloaded clips and silencing any arguments about how ridiculous it was to carry a several discreet caches full of loose bullets on her person.

Of course, no one was telling her how ridiculous it was right now. That had been Sam’s argument, mostly on the rare occasions she’d needed to manually reload while he’d been flying overhead, laying down covering fire. She jammed a last bullet from the compartment in the sole of her left boot into her clip like she was trying to make a point that didn’t…didn’t…

It was no surprise that she was suffering serial distractions, anyway. The same thing had been happening since the Avengers had been gone back to work in Mexico City, preventing a powerful drug cartel’s attempted government coup. She’d thought the opportunity for combat operations would have had kept her head in the game, but she’d found herself glancing at the sky periodically, always expecting a glimpse of Sam before remembering that he wouldn’t be there. More than once, she’d seen a flying body and worried that his wings had been ripped off only to realize she was looking at Rhodey.

“You okay?” Steve asked as he suddenly appeared at her side, looking slightly dirty but no worse for wear.

“Fine.” When he looked at her dubiously, she repeated more forcefully, “ _Fine_. Just tired. It feels like we’ve been at it nonstop for two weeks.”

“Yeah, well… I think there’s still a pocket of these guys in the southeast corner, but I can probably handle them myself.”

“No, I’m getting up.” She accepted the hand he held out to help her stand. “I’m just saying that I don’t suppose we get a break after this?”

He gave her a tight smile, but quickly outlined his tactical assault of the southeast corner, where the final targets had holed up in the factory offices. They really had been on flaming hamster wheel following the successful operation in Mexico City, which had apparently reminded the world what the Avengers could do. They had gone from Mexico to Venezuela, then there had been the situation in the Philippines, the unrest in Montenegro and the weird Australian farmer thing in Hobart. Now Bruce and Rhodey were putting down a revolt in Iraq after doing the same in Macau while she and Steve held off Ukrainian separatists attacking a Russian city as a distraction while the larger body fought the Russian army in Crimea.

Darcy chose that moment to call out in their comms, “CapWidow Avengers, you are now behind the WarHulk Avengers three terrorist cells to two!”

Natasha was thankful that Steve managed to bite back a sure retort about numbers versus leaders, considering they were almost at their breach point for the offices where the rest of their bad guys were holding out. At least the idiots they were currently working on weren’t using anything over .45 caliber or so, if her judgement remained intact. The drug cartel trying to take over the Mexican government three(? Four? More?) missions ago had been armed with high-explosive incendiaries and a 155mm Howitzer they’d smuggled in from Honduras. As far as she knew, Bruce and Rhodey were currently putting down a warlord with nothing larger than a Type 69 RPG in Basra. Or had just done it. Who could keep track?

They needed a better system than Darcy excitedly shouting about the requests and intel pouring into HQ while a small team of Air Force volunteers that Rhodey had recruited performed threat assessments. At least all African insurrections, thus far confined to Cairo, Kigali and Gaborone, had been handled by Wakandan teams, dispatched by Queen Ramonda and led by Okoye and M’Baku. If only every continent had such capable people taking charge!

Natasha centered herself on the current situation. The Avengers were totally capable. They were just numerically limited. And would be more so for a few days if the plan she was concocting in her head could be fulfilled. First things first…

She nodded to Steve and he bashed through the brittle drywall a few meters down from the door the separatists were likely guarding. They were shocked, as expected, first by the appearance of Captain America and then by a flurry of hits from Black Widow’s electric batons. They made such quick work of the dozen or so men that Natasha felt almost guilty about how easy it was to deliver fast results via punches and kicks, crackling shocks and exploding powder. The main room was rapidly clearing as she and Steve took down its remaining defenders.

She noticed a man with a shaved head shouting rapid-fire Ukrainian into a walkie-talkie, trying to call in reinforcements. The click of her empty Glocks didn’t slow her sprint toward him and she launched herself into the air, wrapping her thighs around his neck and snapping it with a disturbingly satisfying crunch. Her momentum carried her over a partition into the next room.

She landed nimbly on the floor in a half-squat with one leg extended – Sam would have called out, “Superpose! You owe me steaks!” if he’d seen it – to see that the last two fighters were already kneeling with their hands folded behind their heads, Kalashnikovs kicked to the far side of the room. One of them, who looked like he couldn’t have been older than sixteen, was almost sobbing as he said in stilted Russian, “We’re so sorry! We didn’t realize you were here! We would never have fired if we’d known it was you!”

Not bothering to question him, she simply restrained both men with zip ties and possible concussions before turning to check on Steve. He was already standing in the doorway, backlit by fires in the room behind him. She felt her knees tremble as he threw his head back to throw sweat and dampened hair from his forehead. Holy…

“What?”

He repeated slowly, “Everything locked down here?”

“Yeah. I think we’re good. I was just…that little one was apologizing a second ago. I was just trying to figure out who he intended it for.”

“If it was ‘Sorry, please don’t hit me,’ I take it you didn’t accept his apology.”

“No, it was just a little strange.” Before she could think about it further, she heard official Russian chatter on her earpiece. “Sounds like the Army is on its way to handle the prisoners. You have everyone restrained to your liking?”

“Don’t make it weird, Nat.”

She pursed her lips and fell into step with him as they left the factory, meeting the arriving forces before heading to their quinjet. She had no intention of making things weird, just normal.

* * *

Steve realized that he’d been dozing as the usual drone of the jet’s engines changed to the more intense whine that indicated landing. He didn’t need more than a quick glance through the cockpit to realize that he hadn’t been sleeping for hours nor had Natasha landed them at Avengers HQ. He took a moment to clear the cobwebs in his head before stating, “This is our barn. We’re in Châtelet.”

“Uh-huh.” Natasha flicked off the last few switches before standing from the pilot’s seat.

“So…why are we here?”

“We’re taking a few days off. Three, to be exact. Darcy demanded I be exact before cheerfully agreeing to tell everyone we’re going to be unavailable for the next seventy-two hours.” She unzipped her ballistic vest and stowed it in an onboard locker, just like he’d suggested before all this had started. “Well, I think I could use a shower.”

It didn’t take more convincing for him to chase her into the house and upstairs, closing their bedroom door before he could think about who wasn’t currently here. The room was just as they’d left it, bed unmade and sheets tangled because they’d been interrupted in the middle of…

He hesitated. “Nat…” His mouth went dry when he looked up to see that she was already out of the top portion of her catsuit and bra. Not that it was anything he hadn’t seen recently, just that he hadn’t combined the sight with such active, unrepressed desire. “Oh, Natasha. You are so beautiful.”

“And here I thought maybe you’d changed your mind about that.”

“Never.” He made his decision when she bent to shimmy out of the bottom of her catsuit, knowing he couldn’t hold back any longer. He yanked off his gloves and unzipped the concealed fly on his own suit, pushing her back against the wall the moment she stood, gloriously naked. Understanding the look surely in his eyes, she gave a little jump so she could wrap her legs around his waist. In spite of the fact that he was feeling a bit like a caveman, he paused to say, “I want you.”

She smiled and bounced her hips, pressing uncomfortably against the erection still trapped in his pants. “I’m all yours, soldier. Always have been.”

“I know. I just…these past few weeks…”

“Let’s put off that conversation until after you’ve fucked me against this wall, m’kay?” She deftly pulled him out and stroked him with a sure hand. “Ready?”

“Yeah, but…”

“I thought about this the whole flight.” She made sure to pass his swollen head through her folds, tantalizingly wet although he hadn’t touched her yet. “So, yeah, I’m more than ready.”

Not needing further encouragement, he slipped his hands under her ass to support her further as she rose up slightly and then…he groaned into her hair as she sank down onto him, letting gravity do the slow work of sheathing him inside her. He took a few moments to appreciate her tight, welcoming warmth around his cock before pulling back and beginning a slow rhythm of long strokes, nearly pulling out each time before pressing back in, making sure to rub against her clit with each motion so she would keep making those little sounds that reassured him and encouraged him further.

She felt so good. Hot. Wet. _Right_.

As he pumped his hips faster, he realized how much he’d missed this – not just the pleasure, but the intimacy, the emotional connection that accompanied their lovemaking. For the first time since The Erasure, Steve could _feel_ everything, in the suck of Natasha’s lips on his neck and the press of her bare breasts against his suit and the perfume of gunpowder on her hands as she tugged his beard and hair. When she shivered in his arms, he increased his pace even more, wanting to give her everything he had been holding inside for the past weeks, wanting to be able to hold her together with all the strength of his body and love.

He knew he couldn’t last much longer. “Nat, I love you. I love…”

“Love you, Steve. Love you so…oh!” she cried out as she came, tightening her legs around his waist and clenching his cock inside her. It was all he really needed to prompt his own release and he managed to lock his knees and lean into both her and the wall before his brain took a much needed break.

His left hamstrings were starting to cramp up when he came back to himself enough to relax just a little. Still pinning Natasha between his body and the wall, he dipped his head and kissed her gently, liking the way she continued panting through her nose but didn’t stop chasing his lips. He finally pulled back when he’d softened too much to maintain his position inside her.

She pouted and kept her legs around his waist. “Well, at least I’ll know what to plan for the next time we’ve got a wall and two minutes alone.”

“Yeah, not exactly my best performance. But you _did_ come first.”

“Always do for you,” she reassured as she carefully unwrapped one leg and balanced on it before pulling down the other. “That’s absolutely a compliment, by the way. You never leave me hanging.”

He immediately felt guilty. He had been using their missions to avoid continuing the conversation she had started at HQ, but there was no getting around it now. “Nat…”

“That wasn’t meant as a double entendre, so don’t get your boxers in a twist. We’re going to talk at some point in the next few days, but for now…I really need that shower.”

* * *

“You’re right, you know,” Steve admitted as he lay on his back, staring at the bedroom ceiling and stroking Natasha’s shoulder where his arm was looped around her. They were snuggling after a quick shower and a long round of lovemaking, this time slower, gentler and in the bed. He felt comfortable enough to finally confront the big green elephant in the room. “He makes me nervous when he’s around you.”

She lifted her head and rested her chin on his chest, looking at him with her intense gaze. “Why?”

“I don’t think I’m jealous, but…I am? Does that make sense?”

“No.” He huffed out a laugh. Of course she wouldn’t just let him off the hook. At least she didn’t just expect him to do all the sharing. “I’m a little jealous of Sharon because she got a spark out of you before I did, even if she’s not that into you and would be smart enough to stay back even if she were.”

“Um. Okay. Not true, for the record, but okay. I definitely felt, um, sparks before I kissed Sharon.”

“Oh? You know, you never did tell me who your first kiss since 1945 was.”

He felt a violent blush spreading up his face and down his chest as he thought back to the days just before the fall of SHIELD, a kiss on an escalator and an awkward ride in a stolen pickup. The fact that Natasha was now tracing circles around one of his nipples with her fingertip wasn’t helping him form coherent thoughts. “That, uh…the thing, well…”

“Spit it out, soldier.”

“You know what a terrible liar I am so…” He squeezed his eyes closed so he wouldn’t have to see her reaction to his confession, “I was counting cheek kisses! Little pecks on the cheek from Pepper and Peggy and generals’ wives and whoever else!”

“Steve.” He stubbornly kept his eyes shut. “Steve, look at me.” He reluctantly did, although the sudden nipple-pinch probably had something to do with it. To his surprise, she was smiling in a genuine rather than sarcastically amused way. “Was I really the first woman you kissed, _really_ kissed, since you woke up from the ice?”

“Yeah. I mean, sort of. I know it wasn’t the greatest because I wasn’t expecting it and…”

She cut him off with an equally unexpected kiss that nevertheless went much, much better. She ended it with a peck on the cheek. “See? Practice.”

“Hard to argue results.” He rolled onto his side so he was facing her, initiating further practice. She let him work from her mouth to her chin, along her jaw and down her neck, but stopped him before he got past her collarbones.

“Don’t you have something you’re going to explain to me, now?”

He didn’t bother trying to distract her further, but he appreciated that she cuddled closer, her body warm against the length of his. Taking a deep breath, he began the explanation he’d been working on for weeks. “I think I…I worry that you’ll remember why you wanted to be with him before you wanted to be with me. And I know that you won’t be unfaithful because I know you’re a good person, but I am worried that…that you won’t be happy with me anymore. That you’ll feel like you’re stuck with me because we’ve made promises and you…”

She suddenly punched him in the shoulder. “Idiot.”

“What? I know it’s stupid because you…”

“Yeah, it’s stupid because I only ever had that thing with Bruce because I knew I’d never be good enough for _you_!”

Steve fought off two conflicting urges – one to question how Natasha Romanoff had ever believed she wasn’t good enough for anything (because they’d already had that conversation on several occasions and she was never looking for reassurance when it came up) and the other to laugh (because, she was so right about them being idiots). He settled for pulling her into a tight embrace and kissing her like he wanted to make actual, visible sparks come from their lips. “I love you. I love you so much, Natasha. I should never have doubted…”

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s okay. I love you.”

As she pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips, he wondered if they could possibly sneak a few more days off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that I should note that this fic is totally not Captain Marvel compliant because I knew nothing about her before I saw the movie. On the lighter side, I'm now fairly certain that there is no such thing as a domestic cat; there are only flerken.


	9. Chapter 9

It had to be at least midmorning when Natasha woke, warm and satisfied after a full night of sex and sleep. Although she could feel Steve, hard again, in the small of her back, she carefully extracted herself from his sleeping embrace and slipped into her robe as she made her way to the bathroom. She wasn’t sure why she expected that anything would be different but… Their toothbrushes were standing up in the cup they used as a stand, the toothpaste slightly blue and gummy around the cap. Still minty. Her lemon facial scrub made by the little boutique three towns over was just as refreshing as always. There was a facecloth atop the stack folded on the shelf beside the shower that still smelled of fabric softener as she washed her face, the towel she used to dry it equally fresh.

Steve had rolled onto his back when she stepped back into the bedroom and was snoring softly, the sheet bunched up near his waist only emphasizing the tent he was pitching. She was tempted to jump right back in to bed, snuggle against him and ensure he woke up just as happy as he’d gone to sleep, but the pleasant ache between her legs might shift to painful if she went too hard too fast. She settled for placing a gentle kiss on his forehead and murmuring him back to sleep with a promise of breakfast.

The door across the hall from their bedroom was closed, as was the one at the end of the hall, so she didn’t have to think about who wasn’t currently in the house. Closed doors could mean sleepers who didn’t want to be disturbed. Absentmindedly adjusting a Van Gogh print on the wall, she made her way down the stairs.

She remained convinced that she was completely enjoying the familiar environment and the return to her and Steve’s normal dynamic right up until she stepped into the kitchen. She wasn’t one to shy away from making coffee, tea, a snack or the occasional meal, but this kitchen had been Sam’s. He had cooked, baked, sautéed, braised, seared, boiled, broiled, stir-fried… A sob rose in her throat that had to be choked off. Sam…Sam had made them everything from simple lunches to elaborate multi-course meals here, all because he’d found a hobby he’d loved. She’d often wondered if he’d been drawn to cooking because it was something he could do that ultimately benefited the whole team. Regardless, he’d had a true gift for it. She ran her fingertips over the spines of his cookbooks on the shelf over the counter, wishing she wasn’t the one planning breakfast.

Swiping at her eyes, she opened the refrigerator and realized that someone would need to run into town if they wanted fresh ingredients. God, they didn’t even know if any of the shops were still open or if…

She forced herself not to focus on the potential catastrophe in their adopted home. At least Steve would probably welcome the chance to jump on his stupid little scooter and do a sweep to assess the state of things. She was struck by the thought that his Vespa had been sitting in the driveway, uncovered, since they’d left the house weeks ago. She didn’t want to think about the expression on Steve’s face if it had disappeared. They always used the backdoor when they arrived via quinjet, so they hadn’t even looked to see if their other vehicles were still there. She rushed to the front door to check.

To her surprise, the Vespa was sitting in the driveway, just beside their SUV and Jeep, safe and covered, which was incongruous because they’d never bothered to buy a cover for it; they just parked it in the barn in inclement weather. Natasha took a moment to consider this development before she realized that she was standing on the front porch amid bouquets of flowers, envelopes and burned out candles. That was…she didn’t even have a mental description of what it was. Picking up one of the envelopes, she unsealed it and found a thank you card ‘à nos héros’ and signed by Pierre and two other staff from the local boucherie that Sam had frequented. She picked up another and found a brief letter from Dominique, from the salon where Natasha got her hair cut and dyed, expressing thanks for their ‘bravoure incroyable.’ Tags on the bouquets indicated that they had been placed or sent by local merchants and families the team had interacted with in the course of their daily lives here. The candles had probably come from similar sources. There were just so _many_! How had anyone in the midst of their grief even considered…much less so many…

Just as she was about to shout for Steve to come and see what their neighbors had left, Natasha heard a motor approaching. Their property was fairly isolated from others in the area, so it was clear when the car turned down their little country lane. Rather than confront whoever it was in her robe, she slammed the front door and sprinted upstairs.

Steve misinterpreted her dive on top of him for passion and tried to ‘wrestle’ her into submission until she pinched the sensitive skin under his arm just as he got on top. “Ow! Not sexy, Nat!”

“Yeah, way to catch on.”

She was saved from further argument when the sound of car doors closing in the driveway caught his attention. “What was that?”

“As I was trying to tell you before you got handsy, I think the locals have been keeping an eye on this place.”

“Shit.”

“Language, babe. From the flowers and notes on the front porch, I don’t think there’s a mob with torches and pitchforks in our immediate future.” The doorbell suddenly chimed. “Maybe you might want to get dressed, though.”

Her robe had fallen open and his eyes did a sweep up her body that almost had her blushing. “You should talk.”

Although she had already had time to freshen up, he was the first one ready and down the stairs as she lingered to brush her hair. She waited until she heard his excited, happy voice before she went downstairs to see who had arrived.

Nuns. There were two nuns in black and white habits in her living room – clunky black shoes, black skirts that ended below the knee, black blazer-type jackets that buttoned up to the neck and black bonnets with white trim around the face. Very fifties. Maybe. Natasha was more focused on the fact that one of the nuns was hugging Steve and when she let him go the other nun grasped him. Of all the scenarios she had imagined, Steve embracing nuns was not even on the list. Were nuns even allowed to hug people? Her religious education outside of mission-specific details had been limited to broad cultural norms and she had never been interested enough to do any exploratory research of her own once she’d left the Red Room and beyond.

She suddenly realized that maybe she should, given Steve’s sincere Catholic faith. She didn’t have to believe or convert or anything like that, but…it seemed like a thing she could easily do for him.

For the moment, she could at least be polite. She descended the rest of the stairs and stepped into the living room. “Hello, Sisters. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

Steve turned and beamed at her. “Nat, this,” he gently wrapped his arm around the shoulders of the nun he had just been hugging, “is Sister Josephine from St. Michael’s. Sister, this is my fiancée, Natasha Romanoff.”

“I’m so pleased to meet you,” Sister Josephine said, extending a gnarled hand for Natasha to shake. Her French was accented with something else – Italian? “Steven has told us so many wonderful things about you and everything that we have seen since l’effacement has confirmed it. I’m so pleased that you still have each other.”

“Thank you.” In spite of her misgivings about religion, Natasha appreciated authenticity. “We’ve just done what…what anyone in our position would do.”

“And the Almighty will bless you for it.”

Steve didn’t seem to notice how uncomfortable Natasha was and introduced the slightly younger Sister Thérèse as enthusiastically as he had Sister Josephine before asking the latter, “Did Father Raymond…is he still here?”

“He is with his Father in Heaven, now, along with many others,” Sister Josephine replied, crossing herself in a manner that prompted Steve and the other nun to do the same but triggered no such muscle memory in Natasha. “We have lost many parishioners, but not so many as other churches. Father Gabriel has preached many homilies about how this was not the Rapture and we must all remain committed to our faith and live the Gospels. The people remain faithful.”

Natasha covered her snort of disbelief with a cough and excused herself to the kitchen to make coffee. She could understand holding deep personal convictions, believing in abstract principles of justice and committing yourself to complete missions for the good of humanity, but religion just didn’t have any appeal to her, no matter how much any particular faith espoused good deeds or whatever. She had seen too many things in her life to believe that a there was a benevolent higher power dictating anyone’s actions. From what she knew, those with power only used it to harm those without it.

Of course, Steve was powerful. He was a super soldier who was guided by his own moral compass to make the world a better place. Then there was Thor the space god, whose stake in life on Earth was all his own choice. And Rhodey, who still wore his armor to protect the world in spite of his injuries. Even Bruce was using the Hulkbuster armor to…

Natasha consciously stopped thinking about her fellow Avengers. She was one of them and she did what she did because she owed it to the world to make up for the things that she’d done, not out of some blind idealism. She was trying to make up for the death and the pain and the horror that she had caused with what she did _now_. Maybe she could make up for it, maybe she couldn’t, but she could try.

She almost jumped when Sister Thérèse joined her in the kitchen to assist with the coffee. “May I help?”

“Of course,” Natasha replied somewhat tersely, before remembering her manners. “Thank you, Sister. If you could heat the water, I just need to grind the beans. Sam is convinced that…” she caught herself. “He _was_ convinced that coffee tastes better when you use a fresh ground in the French press.”

Sister Thérèse nodded politely. “Sam was your friend who lived here? He was very popular in all the shops.”

“Yes, he…he liked cooking. He got very good at it.” Natasha wondered if nuns had some kind of subtle interrogation techniques that made those in the vicinity want to confess. “I…we miss him.” She used the noise of the coffee grinder to cover any further conversation, then rambled about how they didn’t have anything to serve with the coffee as she brewed it because they hadn’t been in town and the milk was probably bad because it had been sitting for weeks and…

She was suddenly being hugged – not by Steve’s strong embrace but by a bony-armed nun who smelled slightly of incense and obviously had poor self-preservation instincts and _why_ was she hugging the nun back? Why was she _crying_? This was just embarrassing.

Sister Thérèse didn’t persist or even ask questions when Natasha abruptly pulled away to grab mugs from the cabinet, though she did fill them when Natasha paused to dab at her eyes with one of Sam’s linen dishtowels, which brought back another memory from a time shortly after her miscarriage. (Sam had caught her doing something similar and declared, “Girl, those are for not leaving streaks on my glassware! Ain’t Steve wearin’ a shirt you can wipe your face on?” Then he’d gently guided her toward the living room with promises of pryaniki in thirty minutes from the dough he’d made the night before. The cookies had been delicious.)

She took a deep breath and nodded to Sister Thérèse as they each picked up two full coffee mugs and brought them into the living room. It wasn’t entirely surprising to see Steve on the couch, weeping into his hands while Sister Josephine comforted him. He was in the middle of speaking, “…miss Sam like crazy and Wanda and Maria, too, and…just everybody and it feels so selfish because know I’m so blessed because I still have Nat. She’s…Sister, she’s my everything.”

It was all Natasha could do not to drop the coffee and throw her arms around him. As it was, she managed to hold herself in check while the small group sat in the living room, drinking coffee as the nuns told them who in town had survived The Erasure. Before they left, they gave Steve and Natasha two large bags of groceries from the shops still open in town.

Natasha had already started making bacon, eggs and toast by the time Steve came in from the porch, having waved the nuns out of sight and stayed to start reading the notes and cards. He came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. “Hey. Sorry about earlier.”

“For what?”

“I was…Sister Josephine asked me how I was doing and I just…I know that you know how much I miss everyone, but…I don’t know why it hit me just then.”

“Nuns,” she murmured, her own experience in the kitchen confirmed. “But let’s focus on breakfast for now. I can feel your stomach rumbling.”

He tightened his embrace. “Really, Nat. I love you and…”

“And you don’t have to explain anything. I know it’s strange being here and we’ve got a different focus when it’s just us, in the bedroom. If we’d spent any time downstairs before the nuns crusaded in, we’d probably be blubbering on the couch together.”

The briefest huff of a laugh rippled through her hair as he nuzzled into her. “Guess you’re right. You weren’t just being nice when you said you’d come to mass with me tomorrow, were you?”

“I’m pretty sure even I’m not allowed to lie to a nun about something that benign.”

“Anything to get you to a church, I guess.”

Her spatula hovered over the nearly-cooked eggs. This was the moment. She had never been so sure of her purpose as she nevertheless stumbled through saying, “We, um, if you want to, I mean…we could make it a dual-purpose visit.” She turned toward him after carefully scooping and placing the eggs on two plates. “If you wanted.”

“What do you…Nat…”

“Hold that thought.” She shoved the spatula into his hand and hoped he would take the initiative to keep an eye on the bacon while she ran upstairs. She had placed several hidden cupboards and safes throughout the house in strategic locations, but the one behind Sam’s bathroom mirror was a secret to everyone but her. She retrieved the small box that represented the most important of its contents and made her way back to the kitchen.

Steve had removed the sizzling bacon from the heat and was just buttering the toast when she extended the box toward him. His eyes were wide as he plucked it from her grasp like it was a delicate thing he could crush if he weren’t careful. The look on his face when he opened it was totally worth the surprise. “Nat…do you really want…”

“Well, I figured since you got me two engagement rings, the least I could do is get the wedding rings.”

“Yes!” He snapped the box containing the two gold bands shut as he wrapped his arms around her. “Let’s get married! Tomorrow!” He suddenly pulled back. “That’s what you meant by dual-purpose, right?”

She grinned in spite of herself. “Never change, you oblivious idiot.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

As the quinjet finished taxiing into the hangar, Steve found that he was almost reluctant to return to the shared space of Avengers’ HQ even after taking two extra days off, though he felt bad leaving all the work to Rhodey and Bruce. There hadn’t been any call-outs since the incident that he and Natasha had contained in Russia, but there was always the potential for…

His thoughts were interrupted when she wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up at him expectantly as the rear ramp came down. He tried to frown, but could feel the corners of his mouth tugging up in a smile. “Nat, how many times are we gonna do this?”

“I don’t know.” She darted up for a quick peck of his lips. “How many doors do you think are in the building?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s only traditional on entering the home for the first time. We don’t have to do it every single time we go through a new door.” He knew that he probably had only himself to blame, considering he’d carried her down the church steps to the car and then from the car directly to their bedroom shortly after they’d exchanged vows a few days before. He had enjoyed all the time they’d been able to spend together alone at their house, though they had attended a celebratory dinner thrown by people from town the day following the ceremony. Now it felt like they had to let everyone in on their little secret and he just wanted to maintain their private bubble a little longer. He dipped his head to kiss her before he said, “Besides, I already did this at our house.”

“Well, HQ is like our other home and this is the first time we’ve been back, so…” She raised her eyebrows. “C’mon, Steve. You _love_ the traditional bells and whistles.”

“Not what I actually love, but…” he murmured under his breath. He sighed loudly but picked her up at the same time, one arm around her waist as the other hooked under her knees. He allowed some gentle sarcasm into his voice as he said, “Then welcome home _again_ , Mrs. Rogers.”

“Love you, too, Mr. Romanoff,” she whispered as he carried her down the ramp. “Sorry, Captain Romanoff.”

“Nat…”

“What? We can mix the traditional and progressive if we…”

“Oh, shit! He dicked you so hard you can’t even walk!” Darcy exclaimed in greeting as they appeared; he definitely would have dropped Natasha if she hadn’t had such a firm grip on his neck. Darcy, lacking all boundaries and volume control as always, went on, “I knew I shouldn’t have encouraged your extra time off! Did you break her pelvis? Crush her spine? Perforate her internal organs with the force of your spurting…”

Natasha finally interrupted, “Darcy, I can walk just fine, so please don’t cause Steve to stroke out. I don’t want death doing us part quite so soon.”

“Sorry, it’s just so…wait!” After taking a moment to absorb the phrasing, Darcy let loose her loudest shriek yet. “Holy shit! You got married!”

“We did,” Natasha confirmed, holding out her hand to display her ring, though she made no move to indicate that Steve should let her down. “He’s carrying me over the threshold.”

“Every threshold,” he added.

“So, straight to your quarters to christen that bed? Not that you haven’t already, just…as a married people thing.” Darcy said. “Seriously, though, you two are the ultimate supercouple and I’m deliriously happy for you even while being pissed I wasn’t invited to the wedding.”

“It was kind of a spur of the moment thing. There were nuns involved.”

“Okay, Nat, you’re definitely giving up the deets on that once you’ve emerged from the marital chamber.”

Steve was suddenly struck by the fact that they actually hadn’t made love at HQ; their relationship had moved beyond friendship only after the Accords debacle and when they’d finally come back to HQ, The Erasure had been too immediate, the strange awkwardness too present. Now, though… Natasha interrupted his train of thought before too much blood could rush south, “Yeah, Steve should at least carry me there.” She turned her face back toward his. “Unless you wanna carry me around all day?”

Darcy correctly interpreted the look he gave his new wife (in spite of the fact that he would absolutely carry her around forever if that was what she really wanted) and walked toward the door into the base. “Well, I’ll open the doors as you go and fill you in on what’s been happening here, okay?”

As it turned out, there hadn’t been much beyond rebuilding and government organizing going on since they’d taken their impromptu vacation, so Bruce had been spending time in the lab with Erik Selvig and Rhodey had been teaching his Air Force team of threat assessors more about the facility and tech they had available. Apparently one woman was already becoming proficient in piloting a quinjet while one of the men had shown a special aptitude for improving the computer systems’ performance around HQ. Rhodey was currently working on the paperwork to have his group of volunteers permanently assigned to the Avengers. Darcy concluded her summary in the hallway outside of Steve and Natasha’s quarters, “And Thor got back to the place where the Asgardian freighter was destroyed and they’re tracking the lifeboat spaceships to try and find anyone who escaped. So, I’ll leave you two in this hopefully soundproofed area and maybe we’ll all see you at dinner around 7, okay? I should tell you that I’ve discovered a way to combine Taco Tuesday and Thirsty Thursday into one all-powerful meal that I call Whoo-hoo Wednesday.”

“But it’s Monday.”

“Don’t harsh the vibe, Cap.” Just before she walked off, she did stage-whisper to him, “And make sure she actually can walk to dinner.”

He kept his gaze down as Natasha punched in their entry code and carried her over what he hoped would be their last threshold for a while. She kissed him soundly before he could put her down as the door closed. “Don’t pay attention to Darcy. You know what she’s like.”

“I know, I just…well, you know what I’m like.”

“Adorably embarrassed when anyone acknowledges that you are, in fact, a human male with sexual needs and urges and not just a cartoon patriot?”

“Something like that.” He carefully set her on her feet, though he didn’t let her out of his embrace. “You realize that we aren’t going to be able to keep this for ourselves anymore, right?”

She pushed back on his shoulders. “Please tell me you didn’t wait until after we got married to get cold feet.”

“No, I just…Nat, I want to be married to you and spend the rest of our lives together, I just…we’re both kind of, y’know, famous and once people find out…it won’t just be _us_.” He’d never been comfortable in the spotlight as Steve Rogers and their lifestyle over the past two years had done nothing to prepare him for living as a public figure without a cowl. “I’m happy and proud and excited to let everyone know that we’re married, but at the same time I know people are going to talk about it when they’ve got no right and don’t know us and…”

She cut him off with another kiss, maneuvering him toward the bedroom. “And nothing they say will matter because, like you said, they don’t know us and they can just go to hell.”

“I did not say that last part,” he argued as the back of his knees collided with the mattress and he dropped into a sitting position. “And if you think I’m not going to defend you when people say cruel things…”

“I’m just saying that you can’t let what idiots are going to say about our relationship affect our actual relationship.” She nudged his knees apart so she could stand between his thighs and settled her hands under his jaw to lift his head. “But the people who matter are going to be happy for us. You saw how excited Darcy was, right?”

“Yeah. I just…”

“Don’t get stage fright on me, my Star-Spangled Man with a Plan. We haven’t even gotten to the musical number yet!”

Memories of his USO experience flashed through his mind, leaving him almost as uncomfortable as he’d been with Darcy’s innuendos. “Nat, please.”

“I’ll allow an alternate demonstration of your rhythm skills.” She plucked at the buttons on his shirt, pressing even closer to him. “I mean, if you can think of a way…”

“ _That_ I can do,” he replied as he leaned back and pulled her on top of him in their bed.

* * *

“So, how’s science?”

Bruce looked up from the calculations he was running. He and Selvig had been working – thus far unsuccessfully – to develop a way to track the energy signatures of the infinity stones. The latter had begun building an orbital delivery platform for a sensor array that would interpret a signal Bruce didn’t yet know how to send or receive. He was thankful for the distraction. “Hi, Darcy. Are Nat and Steve inbound?”

“Wow. You’ve been sciencing so hard you missed my messages. They got here, like, an hour ago. I’m just here to find out if anyone was really set on carnitas for Whoo-Hoo Wednesday, which we’re having today, and I’d have to make a run to the store because I might have used up all the piggy deliciousness on burritos with Rhodey’s Nerd AF.” After a moment, she added, “Air Force, I mean, even if that computer boy is nerdy as the other AF. In a good way.”

“Oh.” Bruce found himself unexpectedly disappointed that no one had come to say hello, especially since he hadn’t seen Natasha or Steve for a few weeks. He decided to focus on the stated reason for Darcy’s visit. “I’m really not picky, so whatever you make, I’ll enjoy.”

Her glasses only served to magnify her eyes as she blinked at him. “Bruce can I ask you something? Are you so accommodating because you’re trying to make up for the smashy guy, or are you just naturally a doormat?”

“What? No, I…you really go for the throat, don’t you?”

“Nah, I just think tact is overrated.” She settled down on the stool beside him so she could look at what he was working on. “Seriously, though. I realize meat selection isn’t the hill anyone’s gonna die on, but I feel like that’s your deal 24/7.”

“Even in the Hulkbuster?”

“I’m lumping that in with smashy time, but even then you’re still pretty polite.”

“Um, is there something bad about that?”

“Nope. Just making conversation.” She tapped the screen to change some variables before pointing to a spot on the fourth line. “And you left out the exponent here.”

“Oh, thanks.” The screen suddenly lit up with a successful link between the two phase shifted waveforms that had been stumping him all day. “How did you do that?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Just had to compensate for the oscillation due to gravity as the beam passes celestial bodies. Pretty basic when you step back for a second.”

Bruce was dumbfounded. “Darcy, why haven’t you been working on this with us?”

“I don’t want to. It makes me think about Jane and that just makes me sad and not want to science, so I’m focusing on being the Avengers’ Communications Director of Utter Awesomeness.”

“That’s…um…”

“An unhealthy coping mechanism? Probably. But the Utter Awesomeness stands.”

“Very true.” He didn’t push her further, changing the topic. “So, did Steve and Nat mention where they went on their time off?”

“Somewhere with nuns was as far as I got. Makes sense, since he seems like the type to insist on a church wedding.”

Bruce very nearly fell off his stool. “They got…they’re married?”

“Shit!” Darcy clapped her hand over her mouth. “They didn’t tell me not to tell anyone, but they probably were planning to tell you themselves! Damn it. I’m maybe a little too good at the communications stuff. Do me a favor and keep it under your curls until they say something, okay?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You’re the best, Dr. Hulk.” She spun a few times on her stool before standing. “Now I have to go get my lettuce shredding on, because I never remember to do it ahead of time. Dinner at 7-ish!”

Bruce shook his head in amusement as she bounced out the door, though his thoughts almost immediately went back to what she’d told him about Natasha and Steve. Steve was a much better match for Natasha than he, Bruce, could ever hope to be, not that it was something he’d been hoping for anymore. It was a weird position to find himself in, not exactly jealous but still unsure of his own feelings. He decided to follow Darcy’s example and do something that was useful without forcing him to feel anything uncomfortable; he went back to the now much-clearer data on his screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my own mental health, I shall be remaining in my own private AU here. 
> 
> Spoilery Rant: I both loved and hated Endgame. Applause to all of you out there writing fix-fics, but I'm too pissed to contribute on that front. Maybe I'd be a little less pissed if they'd included, I don't know, a little Black Widow belt buckle to the Arc reactor funeral to just acknowledge that two people sacrificed their lives to bring everyone back and save the world rather than just canonizing Tony and having Clint remind everyone that, hey, Natasha's dead too. Seriously. She was Nick Fury-ing everyone while Tony fucked off to a lake house for five years! She deserved better! Fight me!


	11. Chapter 11

Natasha stood on a balcony of the palace in Wakanda, looking out at the battlefield where they had failed the very concept of life so spectacularly. Although the deepest scars on the landscape were still plainly visible, green and yellow grasses had already filled in and covered the torn up earth, hiding the true extent of the damage. Additionally, there was an area being readied for the erection of a monument to the fallen Wakandans. Steve and Rhodey had gone out to visit the site with M’Baku. She squinted into the sun-drenched field in an attempt to spot them, but she wasn’t able to distinguish individuals at this distance. She turned and walked back into the palace to get out of the heat.

They hadn’t traveled to Wakanda on a social call, but because Shuri had reached a point in her work where she was confident she could reawaken Vision, though she could make no guarantees about the state he would be in afterward. Natasha felt alone in her reluctance to revive Vision; he wasn’t the science experiment that Shuri and Bruce seemed to see, nor was he a portent of things to come, as Steve had convinced himself. What he _was_ was a fallen Avenger who deserved more respect than he was currently being afforded. When she’d brought up this argument during the trip on the quinjet, Steve had insisted it was more like what the Wakandans had done for Bucky, putting him in stasis until they could heal him. Natasha still couldn’t put the idea of a zombified version of Vision rising, no longer himself but some empty shell. Or worse. Everyone had conveniently minimized the fact that Ultron could be in there, ready to awaken and finish what Thanos had begun.

She approached the lab doors but didn’t enter, instead watching Shuri and Bruce working over Vision’s strangely colorless body, manipulating holographic images near his head that would presumably allow him to regain consciousness or something like it. It was really confusing on a fundamental level, considering that Vision had been dead for nearly three months at this point. It wasn’t even as if he’d had something resembling life, like someone on a ventilator or in a coma. He had just been…gone.

Natasha sighed heavily, not in the mood to deal with hypothetical futures even when they were so close to being fulfilled. But if they had to deactivate or ‘kill’ Vision once they woke him up, she had no intention of being gentle in her criticism. Less than a month of marriage and she was already picturing herself as an ‘I told you so!’ wife. Ugh.

Fortunately, General Okoye chose that moment to approach. “Agent Romanoff, a word, if I may?”

“Of course, General. Glad to see you didn’t get hurt in Dar es Salaam.”

“They were untrailed guerrilla fighters and the situation was easily contained,” she replied dismissively, as if the disturbance had been more a waste of time than anything. “And I have asked you to call me Okoye.”

“Probably as often as I’ve asked you to call me Natasha,” she replied, smirking slightly. “Maybe we’ll take that step once we finally get to have that sparring session.”

Okoye gave her a measured look. “I am free now, if you are feeling up to it.”

“I could use a good workout.” She glanced into the lab again, but the situation remained unchanged. They would call if she were needed and her preference would always be for physical activity. “Bare hands or can I have a few minutes to figure out how to handle a spear?”

“Do not bother with your mind games. You forget that I have seen you in battle with a staff.”

“True, but it helps to adjust to the weight if I get to play with it for a while.” Natasha grinned as she walked through the palace with the other woman. “Not that I think it’s a toy.”

“Perhaps I will give you a lesson after we have sparred, if you are still up to it.”

“Now who’s playing mind games? At least I can trust you not to pull your punches.” Steve never went full-force when they sparred, though occasionally he went full speed. She found it both sweet and annoying.

They arrived at the training gym, prompting greetings to Okoye from several Dora Milaje warriors sparring in full uniform. Natasha felt underdressed and even shorter than usual once she’d kicked her sneakers off, but shook off the feeling as she took a few minutes to stretch. She’d thrown on leggings, a tank and a hoodie to travel, so at least she didn’t have to change, though she’d carefully slipped off her rings and tucked them into her hoodie pocket.  Eventually, she felt ready and assumed a fighting stance on the mat across from Okoye, ignoring the fierce gazes of the other women who were not shy about showing their support for their leader.

The match began simply as Natasha feinted and dodged, judging Okoye’s movement, speed and balance, all while trying to disguise her own because she knew that Okoye was doing the same to her. After a few minutes, she struck out with a kick intended to actually land and barely whipped away from Okoye’s counterstrike. From that moment, the match turned serious, with hands and feet flying at full speed. Natasha always appreciated the opportunity to work with a skilled opponent and Okoye was exceptional, able to adapt the moves she would probably use with her spear to her hand-to-hand style. She landed about as many blows as she received and they were both sweaty and panting after about ten minutes and no clear winner. Natasha even felt that the Dora Milaje warriors were considering her with new respect. While she had no desire to best Okoye in front of her troops, she also wondered if she could.

After they had both dropped each other to the mat a final time, Natasha suggested, “Draw?”

“No dishonor in a fight between equals,” Okoye agreed. “Though I feel as if you could have snapped my neck in that scissor-hold, had you desired.”

“It seemed impolite after you abstained from breaking my femur a few moves before.”

“As long as you know.” They both broke into smiles. Okoye went on, “I know I would like to clean up, but perhaps you would join me for some refreshment in half an hour?”

“Considering this started with a request for a conversation, I’ll be there.”

Steve hadn’t returned when she’d finished her shower, so she left him a note about where to find her and walked down to the lounge on a lower floor to meet Okoye. A simple meal of protein-heavy dishes had already been delivered by a liveried servant. Natasha sat and immediately dug into a colorful quinoa bowl. “Things seem to be going well here. How are the people coping with their losses?”

“As well as can be expected. I think the adjustment has been easier because the battle occurred here. The people saw the threat with their own eyes. I think the survivors are thankful just to be alive.”

“Brave new world where the folks in the warzone are the best adjusted.”

Okoye hummed thoughtfully. “The rest of the continent is less stable, but at least there are enough resources. Sadly.”

Natasha briefly felt guilty about the food she was eating, but quickly rationalized that it helped no one. “Is there anything we can do to aid with distribution?”

“No, we are handling it adequately. What about in America?”

“We’ve never had a problem with resources, so…sorry. What I mean is that we’ve been able to maintain order and some semblance of government, so it’s been easier than some other countries.”

“And what about you? How are you doing?”

“Alright, I guess. It’s always better when there’s a mission and I don’t have time to think too much, but there have been good things, too. Steve and I got married. We were talking about how to announce it when we got Shuri’s call.”

“I had heard some rumors, but I am pleased to hear the news from the source.” Okoye smiled brightly. “Congratulations to you both.”

“ _That’s_ what you wanted to talk about? We could have gotten that out of the way without beating each other’s asses, y’know.”

“Very true. But it is not my primary concern.”

Natasha nodded. “Vision?”

“Yes. Vision is part of it.” Okoye took a long drink of water before continuing, “I do not know what he was like prior to his, well…”

“Death. You can say it.”

“Death, yes. Are you familiar with our cultural beliefs regarding death?”

The buzzing tinnitus was almost present in Natasha’s head as she thought back to the bomb at the UN conference in Vienna. “When King T’Chaka died…I spoke to T’Challa afterwards and he told me something about a death being a beginning and a…a green veldt.”

“The Ancestral Plane, yes. Men are not meant to remain there if they are to return to this world. I know that Vision is not a normal man, but if he has been away too long…”

“I’ve got my doubts, too. I’m guessing that no one else is listening to yours either?”

Okoye sighed loudly. “The Princess has been obsessed with this project and the Queen Mother has allowed it on the condition that her success will mean her finally agreeing to her coronation. I fear that if Vision is awakened but deficient, the Princess will use that as an excuse to further defer assuming the throne.”

“From everything I’ve seen, your people respect Queen Ramonda. Why can’t she remain the head of state for the time being?”

“The continued stability of Wakanda relies on maintaining the royal line of succession. The Queen Mother cannot remain regent indefinitely. The Princess must assume her responsibilities if we are to maintain confidence in our government.”

“Okoye, I understand that Shuri has to step up eventually, but she’s still so young. Can’t you make allowances for her to grow up a little more?”

“Normally, I would take that position. But circumstances are not normal.”

“Has something happened?”

“Not yet. There has only been gossip, whispers in the markets and around dinner tables. It is only a matter of time, though, before the rumors become political fodder. You were briefed on the recent discord due to King T’Chaka’s nephew?”

“Ambassador Bulumko filled us in.” Natasha had thought the summary had been rather clinical and suspected there were deeper forces in play. “There was a power struggle, as I understand it.”

“There was a coup. T’Challa regained his rightful place, but there are some Wakandans who still privately believe that Killmonger was right and we should be more aggressive about our place in the world.”

“Killmonger?” Natasha asked, trying not to let out an incredulous laugh.

“The name Erik Stevens chose for himself. Perhaps you can understand why I am concerned that his supporters would presume to take advantage of any perceived weakness in the monarchy.”

“The legitimate Wakandan government has international support as well as anything the Avengers can do to…”

“I am not concerned about an actual coup so much as I am regarding the people’s faith being eroded. After enduring so much, I cannot conceive of…” A sudden chime from Okoye’s bracelet interrupted her. “Yes?”

Shuri’s excited voice came through. “We are ready to attempt the revival. Please conduct the colonizer you are babysitting to my lab.”

“Agent Romanoff and I are on our way,” Okoye replied tightly. She turned back to Natasha. “I believe I will be heeding your counsel about cultivating the Princess’ maturity.”

“She _is_ young,” Natasha confirmed, “but brilliant.”

“Her brilliance obscures her youth.”

“I wish I had some useful advice, but I usually beat my opinion into people who need it.”

“I will keep the option on the table. To the side, perhaps, but firmly on the table.”

Steve, Rhodey and M’Baku were already present when Natasha and Okoye entered the lab a few minutes later. M’Baku immediately grasped her hand in both of his enormous ones. “My congratulations! May Hanuman bless your union and grant all joys upon your house.”

“Thank you,” she replied, genuinely touched. “I take it Steve shared the news?”

“We would sacrifice a calf in your honor, but we are vegetarians!” His ebullient laugh filled the room with a joy that had been in short supply since The Erasure. “Perhaps we will just enjoy some ripe melons!”

“Hey, this is serious!” Shuri interrupted, stamping her foot. “I feel like Isis right now and you are all joking!”

Natasha realized she must had allowed some alarm to show on her face because Okoye leaned in to whisper, “The goddess, not the terrorists with no respect for history. She restores the souls of the deceased in the afterlife and provides for them, as a mother.”

“Hopefully Bruce doesn’t start invoking Frankenstein.” Natasha suddenly felt Steve’s arm around her waist as he stepped up beside her. After a quick peck on the lips, she asked him, “How was your visit to the monument site?”

“It’s really…” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed before continuing, “It’s gonna be beautiful. They have a model and there’s a kind of abstract statue with running water and…even with the construction work, it’s peaceful there. It…like I said, it’s peaceful. But I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of closure yet. Especially not if…”

“We’re ready,” Bruce suddenly said quietly.

“Hope we are,” Natasha murmured under her breath as blue and yellow lights flashed in some sequence around Vision’s head. The speed of the lights increased with their brightness until the flashes became a continuous beam that blended into a swirling green halo.

“The connections are holding,” Shuri proclaimed from behind her screens. “We are at full power! He should wake any moment!”

In spite of her confidence, Vision neither moved nor opened his eyes, remaining inanimate on the table. Now that Natasha really looked, she saw that his eyes had always been open – they were just as blank and colorless as the rest of his body. How could everyone else look at him and see anything other than a corpse? The lights suddenly began to slow, resolving into blue and yellow hues again. Keeping her eyes fixed on Vision’s face, she asked, “What’s happening?”

“We have to power down because if we pump more through it’ll blow all his circuits,” Bruce explained.

Shuri immediately shot back, “That is not an accurate description of the neuronal links in…”

“Что за хуйня?” Natasha whispered as she leaned forward. There was something there, a subtle swirl of silver in Vision’s previously empty eyes. Slipping from Steve’s protective grasp, she stepped forward. “Vision? Vision, it’s Natasha. Can you hear me?”

Before she could react, a vibranium enforced hand was clutching her throat. An all too familiar voice almost cooed, “Ah, Agent Romanoff. We meet again. Tell me, how many useless sacks of skin and flesh have you been able to preserve since Sokovia failed to…” There was a sudden shudder through the robot body that she felt ripple down her spine before the hand encircling her neck suddenly let her go. She was already dropping back into Steve’s arms as another voice said, “I do apologize, Agent Romanoff. I do not know what came over me.”

She gasped so she could gain enough breath as Bruce, Okoye and M’Baku surged forward to restrain Vision’s now docile body. Bruce was the one to say, “Vision? Are you okay?”

“Who is Vision? Dr. Banner, I am JARVIS, as you are well aware. Am I called Vision in this body? Did Mr. Stark…” Another shudder went through Vision’s body and the voice changed again, this time not to Ultron or JARVIS but a monotone drone, “I do not belong here. I am not alive.”

“Who are you?” Okoye demanded.

The voice repeated, “I do not belong here. I am not alive.” Another shudder and JARVIS said, “I cannot track the trajectory of…” Another shudder and Ultron shouted, “I won’t be denied my world of…” The shifts continued until Natasha slammed a Widow’s Bite disc to Vision’s forehead. Blue electricity flashed over his body until it stilled, returning to the inanimate shell it had been for so long.

There was a moment of utter silence before Shuri cried, “What did you do?!”

Natasha caught the girl’s flailing fists easily, shaking her head to prevent Okoye or Steve from intervening. “It wasn’t right. He wasn’t the same without the Mind Stone. No matter what he became, he wasn’t…”

“But my brother! How can I bring back my brother if I can’t even bring back a robot?”

The struggle devolved into a supporting hug, with Natasha confusedly holding a disconsolate Shuri. Although she didn’t currently believe it, she murmured, “We’ll get him back. We’ll get them all back.”

She wasn’t able to pass the weeping Princess off to anyone until Queen Ramonda arrived to comfort her daughter. Vision’s body was quarantined until a definitive simulation could be run regarding his reactivation. Natasha took no joy in telling her fellow Avengers that they wouldn’t be joined by a familiar ally in the near future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilery Rant, Part II: Last chapter I bitched about how mad I am that Natasha got such a disrespectful send-off, and I am still maximally pissed about that, but I would also like to register my annoyance with Steve's ending. Ever heard the idiom "Never meet your idols"? I feel like this applies xInfinity to Steve and Peggy in the MCU. I don't think he ever really knew anything but an idealized version of her in the movie canon and a real relationship would be difficult, to say the least. Did we ever see evidence that she didn't love her husband? How selfish was it of Steve to go back and interrupt that? Also, in the movie that should have been an alternate timeline so the awesome passing of the shield could never have occurred in the presented timeline! Those were your rules, movie! And why didn't Steve stop the Vietnam War or the MLK assassination or the Rwandan Genocide or 9/11 or anything else if he was living through that shit? DAMN IT!


	12. Chapter 12

As burning debris showered down around them, Steve felt himself clench up in self-defense, a protective reflex that had him clutching his wife’s body against his own for an infinite moment. He didn’t have his shield, but he could still keep her safe for the time being with his super soldier physique. For some reason, she was struggling to escape his embrace. “Nat! No! Natasha, I’ll never let you go.”

Her voice was calm, almost amused as she replied, “I know you won’t, babe, but maybe don’t crush me in the process, hmm?”

It was the rarely used nickname that got through to him. He opened his eyes to find that they weren’t on a battlefield in imminent danger of death, but safe under the covers in their bed at HQ. He slowly loosened his arms, though she remained spooned against him. “Sorry.”

“Bad dream again?”

“Yeah.” Ever since they had returned from Wakanda after failing to revive Vision days before, he had been plagued by nightmares. The most common involved losing Natasha in increasingly violent and tragic ways, but his subconscious hadn’t been shy about killing Rhodey, Bruce, Darcy, Pepper, M’Baku, Okoye, Thor… Or re-killing Sam, Bucky, Maria, Wanda, Tony, T’Challa, Fury…

He really knew too many people.

Natasha chose that moment to twist around in his arms so she was facing him. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Her kiss was soft and gentle against his lips. “I’m worried about you.”

“What? Why?”

“You’ve been kind of down since Shuri’s plan to revive Vision didn’t work. Not just the new status quo unhappiness, but worse.”

He refused to make eye contact with her, which was awkward considering their current position. It was true that he had been relying on Vision’s resurrection as a sign of things to come and now that it had failed he felt as if he was back at square one – sitting in a Wakandan forest, praying that he was just hallucinating a worst case scenario. He knew that, during their visit to Wakanda, Natasha had taken a walk among the trees where everything had gone wrong. After the calamity in the lab, she had disappeared into the woods for a few hours, taking a large bouquet of flowers with her. She’d told him later that she’d distributed the blooms in the places she thought that their friends had been turned to dust. Steve had stubbornly remained in the palace while she’d done it, still trying to tell himself that there was no reason to leave flowers for Sam or Bucky when they weren’t _really_ gone. But every day it was getting harder to believe…

“Hey. I love you.”

How had she said the exact thing he needed to hear to snap him out of his own head at that moment? He chose instead to focus on how Natasha’s warm breath was blowing against his beard and her hands were caressing his neck and back. He was the luckiest man on Earth, the only lucky man to survive The Erasure and… “I love you, too, Nat.”

“So, you know that can talk to me if you want to. It doesn’t have to be about your dreams or how you’re feeling, even. You can just go back to complaining about that interview we did on _60 Minutes_ last week when you thought Anderson Cooper wasn’t giving Rhodey and Bruce enough attention.”

“He barely even asked them any questions after the introductions! He asked multiple questions about our wedding ceremony and wanted to hear all about the dress you pulled out of the closet to get married in but didn’t care about the fact that they go into combat in incredibly advanced suits of armor and…” He paused to take a deep breath and appreciate the way she was smiling at him. “Okay, I see what you did there. But my point stands.”

“Absolutely, it does. I’m just saying that I know how awful it can be to get stuck in your own head. I’m happy to pull you back anytime.”

“Nat, I…”

Her ringing phone interrupted his train of thought. She swept her index finger up the screen and answered, “Hey, Pepper.” There was a long pause during which only high-pitched shrieking could be heard before she interrupted, “Okay, I’m getting dressed right now and I’ll be there in an hour.”

Steve tried to protest that HQ was at least ninety minutes north of the city, but Natasha waved him off. “Just put on some pants.”

“What’s so urgent that Pepper needs us in the middle of the night?”

“I’m not entirely sure. A lot of what she said was above the range of human hearing. I just know that she wants to see me right away.”

For once, the lack of traffic since The Erasure was a good thing as opposed to a reminder of their failure. She shifted up to sixth and accelerated her new black Corvette down Route 287; the Chevrolet corporation had been only too eager to gift her with the customized car – the logo’s two flags crossed over a red hourglass everywhere it appeared on and in it, for example – when a _New York Times_ article had revealed her favorite model to drive. (The collectable one she’d stolen from Secretary Ross’ garage so long ago remained hidden in an undisclosed location.) Steve mostly tried to minimize his cringes from the passenger seat by fiddling with the radio buttons as she demonstrated the car’s performance potential. They spoke only about innocuous topics, like Major League Baseball’s postponing a month of games while minor leaguers could be substituted for missing players (his choice) and the lack of interesting female characters in upcoming dramatic films (her choice).

When they arrived at the Park Avenue townhouse, Natasha parked behind the building in a concealed underground garage that opened to admit the car. After they’d ascended a dark and dank concrete staircase, Pepper herself let them in through the kitchen entrance. She didn’t allow any time for them to settle in before she waved a disturbingly familiar plastic stick in Natasha’s face. “Do you know what this is?”

Steve certainly knew, having seen about a dozen similar ones before Natasha’s unfortunately necessary miscarriage. He forced himself to remain silent as she said, “You’re pregnant.”

“Yes! There are two lines and there have been two lines on every test I’ve taken so far so…” Pepper wrapped her arms around Natasha’s shoulders. “How can I be pregnant?”

“Assuming you aren’t asking some pretty basic anatomy questions…”

“Don’t be a smartass, Nat.” Pepper did at least smile a little and release her death-grip on Natasha, so Steve managed to relax a little. “And what’s with your hair?”

Steve had been itching to ask about it, if she was planning to go back to the usual red he loved, but hadn’t worked up the courage to do so in spite of the fact that they were married and he felt like maybe she wouldn’t ignore his opinion. Not that he expected her to conform to any ideas of his, even if he was keeping his beard because she liked it even more than he did. His brain lost track of time as Natasha raked a hand through the inch-long red roots of her blonde hair. “Haven’t bothered with the salon recently. It hasn’t seemed that important.”

“Yes, I can understand that. Seriously, though. What am I supposed to do about _this_?” The pregnancy test clattered on the tile as it skidded across the kitchen floor. “Oh, God. Where’s the Swiffer? I peed on that.”

“Why don’t we go sit down?” Natasha suggested. “Steve, maybe you could bring Pepper a glass of water or a cup of tea?”

“Chamomile,” Pepper added, gesturing toward one of the cabinets as she and Natasha walked out of the kitchen. Steve had to smile to himself, glad to have been assigned the easier mission. He was excellent at boiling water and steeping a teabag in it. He wasn’t even daunted when he discovered that Pepper had package of loose leaf tea with the label in German or that she apparently preferred an infuser; it was fortunately similar to the one Natasha used at their house in Châtelet. He had made her many, many cups when she had…

Oh. His mood dipped as he remembered making tea for Natasha after her miscarriage, his desperation to give her something, _anything_ to help her feel better. He still wasn’t sure that she had cheered up due to anything he had done or if it had just been a result of passing time. Their conversations about a hypothetical future in which they could have a family came back to him in a rush, reminding him that this was something they could discuss again. Maybe not yet, given the circumstances, but at some point. There was only so much that could be done from Earth with no practical methods for finding or getting to Thanos and the Infinity Stones. They would keep trying, no matter how long it took, but at some point they would have to talk about their lives here and now, lives that would go forward and maybe, _maybe_ involve little ones with his nose and Natasha’s eyes and…

Only the persistent whistle of the boiling teakettle roused him from his thoughts. After some deep breaths, he managed to set two delicate cups and saucers on a tray beside a matching sugar and creamer set, the latter of which he filled with some kind of hazelnutty dairy substitute when the milk he took from the refrigerator smelled sour.

He walked into the living room with the tea tray just as Natasha was saying, “…just muscle on with it. It’s not like you and Tony weren’t planning on getting married and having a family, right?”

“But…together! What am I supposed to do about a baby when he’s not here?”

“Pepper…”

“I mean, I know that you’re all happily married now so you don’t have to think about things like this, but how am I supposed to deal with it all?”

“With all of us here to support you,” Natasha stated so definitively that Pepper seemed incapable of any response other than nodding. “No matter what, you know you’ve got me and Steve. And Rhodey and Bruce. And Happy. And when Thor comes back…”

“Stop,” Pepper cried, though she didn’t seem angry. She accepted the cup of tea Steve held out to her with a smile. “So what you’re saying is that you’re up for being someone’s Aunt Natasha?”

Steve froze in the act of handing Natasha her own cup and saucer. He wasn’t alone in his reaction, as her hands were shaking far too visibly to take it from him.

Pepper was stirring a spoonful of sugar into her cup when she noticed that something was off. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No. No, it’s fine.” Natasha’s smile was pained, more like a grimace with upturned lips that didn’t reach her eyes. Steve knew that, although she had made calls and sent messages to every alternative she could think of, Clint had yet to respond. Additionally, there had been an incident at a Hells Angels clubhouse several towns over from the Barton farm that had resulted in the gruesome deaths of seven gang members and the subsequent seizure of nearly twenty pounds of meth. There had been an informal omertà around HQ regarding suspicions about Hawkeye’s current activities and whereabouts, extending back into reminders about his past as an Avenger and family man. More than anyone, Steve understood how important it was to protect Natasha from these offhand comments. There was no way Pepper could have known, but…

Natasha had already collected herself enough to explain, “I just wasn’t expecting that. Clint’s kids, they called me Auntie Nat.”

“I’m so sorry,” Pepper said, looking distressed.

“It’s okay, really. I would be honored if your son or daughter thought of me as family.” She paused significantly. “Does this mean you’ve made a decision?”

Pepper settled a hand over her stomach. “How could I make a different one? With Tony gone, whether or not it’s forever, I can’t let go of this.”

A little over an hour later, Steve and Natasha were again in the guest room they’d occupied after their return to the US and her triumphal speech at the UN. She slipped out of the casual clothing she’d worn in order to drive into the city for Pepper a few hours earlier and he found himself unable to resist wrapping his arms around her as they fell into the pristinely made bed. His lips pressed against the pulse beat on the side of her neck. “I love you, Nat.”

“Love you, too,” she replied, pulling the covers over them. “We don’t have to have any deep conversations right now, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, clear about the fact that she was telling him she wasn’t ready to talk about starting a family at this moment. He remained hopeful this might change as they settled into a comfortable embrace. Even if they never had children, he could picture himself dozing off with his wife every night for the rest of his life. He gently tightened his arms around her, appreciating how she relaxed against his chest as he did so. He was never going to let her go.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilery Rant, Part III: I'm only getting angrier about Nat dying the further I get from seeing the movie. Don't you dare cast Rachel fucking Weisz in your Black Widow movie if you're gonna kill the title character! I do not accept this! Anyway, the current rant is more related to the way the world was depicted in Endgame. NYC alone has a population of 8.5 million, meaning that 4.25 million are left after half are snapped out of existence. Why is the city some kind of 'Life After People' simulation where Will Smith is also renting videos from mannequins and nobody wants Starbucks? There are still millions of people here! And why is Natasha dead?


	13. Chapter 13

Natasha slipped one sheer-stockinged foot out of her shoe and turned her chair slowly as the meeting in their conference room dragged through the latter half of its second hour. Steve was to her right, sitting at the head of the table with a look of polite interest focused on the Undersecretary of Defense for Intelligence. The DOD was one of eight US government departments that had arrived at HQ to brief the Avengers about the state of the world (albeit exclusively from the American perspective) twelve weeks out from The Erasure. State had already opened the day by going on for over thirty minutes about the importance of maintaining specific diplomatic ties internationally with power players while Interior had given an exhaustive presentation on strengthening domestic infrastructure in and around major cities; as often happened in times of disaster, people were flocking to urban centers, although this time the migration seemed fueled by a communal need to be with larger groups of people rather than a search for food or water.

For once, availability of resources wasn’t much of a concern for most people in the world. Bruce had mentioned this point a few days before and Natasha had almost had to zap both Steve and Rhodey with her Widow’s Bites before they’d calmed down enough to accept Bruce’s apology about his thoughtless language. Thank God he hadn’t said anything like that during a television appearance, or the Avengers might not have been so popular right now. 

As things stood, US President Reed was eager to maintain strong links between the team and the US, even going so far as to send his Chief of Staff along with the current group, bearing assurances that Congress was in the process of drawing up a mandate to present to the UN regarding the future independence of the Avengers and any galactic allies they might contact.

It sounded like positive steps were being made. The only problem was the steps were getting really dull and repetitive when they were just being reported as numbers by people in suits. Without a mission to distract them – Natasha glanced toward Darcy in hopes of a sudden alert, but the girl was just staring down at her tablet with a glazed look her eye while a reflection off her glasses revealed that she was watching cartoons… _Futurama_? – they were at the mercy of bureaucrats. At the very least, they deserved a coffee break.

With this goal in mind, Natasha slipped her foot toward Steve. His expression remained neutral as she ran her toes up the straight bone of his shin and over the rough angles of his knobby bent knee. His eye gave the barest twitch when she nudged his thickly muscled thighs apart. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had him so vulnerable in public. As she watched, one hand disappeared under the table and caught her heel before she could make it to her goal. She got a warning glance for her trouble, but it only prompted her to kick off her other shoe and adjust her position further. She had barely shifted her torso above the table, but she knew that he couldn’t possibly stop her from teasing him without a visible movement now. He seemed to accept the inevitable, resigning himself to a different sort of torture as he stopped trying to hold her back, though he did studiously avoid eye contact.

Just as she began to feel a hopeful stirring against her toes, she realized that she should have been paying more attention to the meeting as the USDI said, “So, unless there are any questions, I think I can turn this over to Mrs. Pauling from Homeland…”

Steve chose that moment to push back slightly from the table. “Thank you, Mr. Undersecretary. If Assistant Director Pauling wouldn’t mind waiting, may I suggest we take a fifteen minute break?”

A murmur of agreement went through the room and the meeting broke up as Darcy revived herself into herding people toward the coffee bar and restrooms. Natasha tried not to grin as Steve grasped her ankle before she could stand. “I’ve asked you not to do that.”

“I was bored,” she replied with a pout. Although she’d never imagined that it would be a thing she wanted to do, she secretly loved the idea of publicly claiming him as her own in ways that went beyond official ceremonies or announcements or rings. On some level, she _wanted_ to be caught, to be seen as her husband’s intimate partner in a way that brooked no argument. Much as she had nothing to prove, she was simultaneously really eager to prove that they were a loving couple. Going for another reach toward his groin, she blinked at him through her lashes as she said, “And it’s not like you were trying that hard to stop me. You could’ve just kept your legs closed.”

He pressed his lips together, but that only served to push his alluringly full lower lip out. She pulled her foot back and rose from her seat to lean over the table and kiss him. He didn’t resist or try to pull away as she deepened it, though that might have been because there was still a corner of the table between them. He was seriously underestimating her flexibility and athleticism if he thought that would stop her.

Just as she was preparing to launch herself into his lap, a familiar voice interrupted, “Oh, God, sorry! I’ll catch up with you guys later!”

Natasha reluctantly pulled away from Steve’s lips and turned with a smile. “Sharon! I didn’t realize you were here!”

Agent Sharon Carter, blonde, tall, leggy and absolutely not a threat smiled back as she circled around the table to hug Natasha around her shoulders and exchange cheek kisses. “Yeah,  I would have given you a heads up but Director Browning is doing the official CIA presentation and he only invited me to come along after I sent an inappropriate verging on unprofessional number of emails.” She grinned as she stepped back and grasped Natasha’s shoulders. “But it’s so good to see you! And congratulations!” Natasha felt a little more genuine as she accepted _this_ hug. “I’m so happy for you both!”

“It’s good to see you too, Sharon,” she replied, keeping the other woman in front of her as Steve squirmed; at least she knew the exact reason for his hesitancy. “How have you been?”

“Well, I can’t really complain. My father has been a wreck since we lost my mother and my sister, but at least my nephews made it.” Natasha realized she hadn’t known anything about Sharon’s family beyond her connection to Peggy as she went on, “I don’t think we had it any better or worse than most people, but trying explaining that to anyone who’s lost a loved one.”

“I don’t think fairness really applies right now.”

“True. I just mean you can’t justify it when people are grieving.” Sharon finally separated from her embrace with Natasha and moved on to Steve. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about Sam. And Barnes.”

He was just as humble as expected, saying, “We all lost friends. I’m luckier than most.”

Sharon grinned. “Yeah, I’ve seen that photo that’s all over the Internet.” Someone had shot of candid of them kissing behind the scenes at the UN, which had gained traction mainly because Natasha clearly had a handful of Steve’s ass. Sharon continued to smile. “It’s good you two still have each other.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, wrapping her in a hug. It would only have been unconcerning if neither Steve nor Sharon were gorgeous.

Natasha suddenly realized how ridiculous it had been to try and talk Steve out of his irrational jealousy about her past with Bruce. No amount of reassurance or logic could overcome this level of unexpected paranoia! She forced herself to remember that Steve was her husband who had chosen her in spite of interest from other women and…and…hell, there was no need to justify anything! Steve was hers and everybody knew it!

Even Sharon seemed to acknowledge it as she took the seat on Natasha’s other side to begin giving them a private briefing about what the CIA had been monitoring over the past weeks. There were several anti-Avengers websites, mostly run by lonely, disenfranchised-feeling people in various countries, and a few groups with anti-alien messages, as if mere hatred could overcome technologically superior foes. “Oh, and you’ll get a kick out of this,” she said, scrolling through a few pages on her tablet until she came to the relevant one. “Do you remember that thing I told you about awhile back? About how there’s a growing movement in Russia to bring back the Tsar.”

Natasha remained unimpressed. “And I’m getting a kick because I’m Russian?” Pretending to throw back a shot of vodka, she cried, “За здоровье!”

Sharon was unfazed. “No, because you’re apparently an _actual_ Romanov and they’re touting you as the closest genetic match to the throne.”

That information took a moment to absorb, but it certainly forced her weird and unwanted suspicion of Steve and Sharon to the back of her mind. She had never thought her surname was anything more than another element the Red Room had tacked onto her identity, but she wasn’t about to buy into another _Anastasia_ story, regardless of how much she secretly enjoyed that one song about December. For some reason, a training exercise in St. Petersburg flashed through her mind. “And how, exactly, did these supposed Russian patriots get my DNA? Discarded coffee cup? Sidewalk gum?”

“SHIELD file dump.”

“I really wish I’d had more time to edit that before I released it to the world,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t suppose the CIA has verified any of this?”

“We’re letting the independent labs that confirmed the identities of the Romanov remains in the ‘90s handle that, though I’m sure we have some form of verification ready to go. It’s not like anyone sent me here with a cheek swab for you.”

“Uh-huh. And what does the CIA want me to do with this information?”

“Not a thing. None of this has been judged worthy of the Avengers’ attention. Our current intel can’t confirm nor deny the veracity of any of these claims.”

For the first time since this conversation had become surreal, Steve interrupted, “Then this could all be a political maneuver? Or a publicity stunt?”

“Possibly,” Sharon agreed. “Russia has had more problems coping with The Erasure than a lot of other nations. Returning to a centralized political system could…”

“They could just hold a damn election,” Natasha said, not willing to entertain anything the CIA might suggest. “Get a majority, convene the Duma, abolish the Federation Council…” She hadn’t been following political developments in Russia closely enough to make any real proposals, but… “With no strongman in power, they could take further steps toward real democracy.”

Sharon seemed prepared for this. “Maybe you could make a statement? Even if you were to abdicate your authority…”

“What authority? I’m just a girl with a Russian name and too many weapons.”

“Just enough weapons,” Steve corrected, his hand settling on the empty holster on her left thigh; she had willingly stowed the Glock 19 she usually kept there in their quarters while the official-types were at HQ. She still had multiple weapons on her body that didn’t fire bullets, but…

Sharon wasn’t able to argue the point as higher ranking individuals made their way back into the room to resume the meeting with full cups of coffee. “It’ll probably come to nothing, but I just thought you’d appreciate the heads-up.”

“Thank you, Sharon.” In spite of her civility, Natasha was glad to see the other woman’s back as she left the room for the room where the assistants and adjutants were seated. She had _not_ been prepared for that incongruous rush of jealousy and resentment and she wasn’t particularly interested in working through it just yet.

The more formal atmosphere returned as they heard presentations from Homeland, Justice and HUD before they finally broke for lunch. Steve indicated that he was serious about Natasha not teasing him under the table by taking diligent notes the entire time. She behaved, keeping her feet on the floor, although she was tempted to just prop them on the table to demonstrate her decreasing patience. The moment  the speaker from Community Planning and Development concluded his remarks, she pulled Darcy aside as she walked past to inquire about the state of the world. “Anywhere you can send us in the next forty minutes?”

“Sorry, boss lady. Nobody blowing things up or even threatening to blow things up right now.”

“Not your fault.”

“I could prank call the Statehouse with a bomb threat if you want?”

“No, but thanks for trying.” She lowered her voice as she said, “I do hear that the devil’s hands are idle playthings.”

“Seriously? Is there anything that gets past you?” Darcy replied in a surprised gasp. “I promise I’m still monitoring the important stuff while I’m on hulu and there really isn’t anything happening that needs you guys.”

“You’re fine, Darcy. Just don’t watch ‘Jurassic Bark’ while we’re in there. We don’t need you bursting into inexplicable tears.”

“God, don’t even talk to me about Seymour and…Steve, are you trying to pass notes in class?” She reached around Natasha’s elbow to grab a folded piece of paper.

“Darcy, no!” Steve hissed as he stood from his seat.

“Oh, come on, Cap, what could you…” She suddenly stopped talking, which was pretty alarming considering it was Darcy. Her eyes were wide as she looked up from the paper to Natasha. “Okay, that’s definitely meant for you, so I’m just gonna go to the lunch buffet and make up an excuse about why I’m pouring bleach directly into all my head holes.” Allowing the piece of paper to drop onto the table, she left the room without another word.

Natasha turned to look at her husband, whose color was dark red, verging on purple. “Steve?”

He wordlessly gestured to the paper Darcy had intercepted. When Natasha looked at it, she found a better remedy for all the silly jealousy that had plagued her that morning. Steve had apparently not been taking notes during the meeting, but drawing an extremely detailed, extremely explicit picture of the two of them having sex on the conference room table while the meeting went on in the background, everyone unaware or oblivious. She traced her fingertip over the soft curve of her hip, where he’d drawn his fingers digging into her flesh, and down to the spot where they were joined, his hard cock about to push into her for another thrust. What really caught her attention, though, was the expression he’d given her – half-smirking, half-gasping with a sultry look in her eyes. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I…I got a little, uh, carried away and…”

“No, I mean, wow. I really look this hot when we fuck?”

“Nat, you…”

Having mercy on him, she grasped his hand. “Come on. I wanna give you that look in our bedroom. Then we can do it on the conference table sometime when no one’s around. Unless this was a confession that you’re into that kinda thing.”

“No. I don’t even like that Darcy saw you like that.”

“It’s just a drawing. A hot, sexy, pornographic drawing that you made while listening to a boring man drone about rezoning restrictions for suburban lots.”

“Nat, please.”

“I’m gonna frame this and hang it in our bedroom. Come help me pick out a spot right now.” When she looked at him over her shoulder from the side door of the conference room, he looked confused. “And if we have to act it out, so much the better.” He didn’t need any further encouragement to chase her to the base’s private living quarters.

It wasn’t as if they missed anything by returning from the lunch break thirty minutes late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilery Rant, Part IV: I was going to rant about how the directors and writers don't seem to understand the actual reasons it's problematic to have killed Natasha when they're "justifying" it, but I don't think they deserve the attention. You did it because when in doubt, you kill the girl. Thanks, patriarchy. If you need me, I'll be in the Angry Dome!


	14. Chapter 14

“Psst! Bruce!”

Bruce didn’t look up from his monitors, as he was currently running a test of the sensors that were finally (probably) ready to be installed in the satellite Dr. Selvig was preparing. It was hard to believe that they might actually be able to track Thanos in a tangible way at some point in the very near future. If they could find him, they could fight him. Bruce had repaired and even upgraded the Hulkbuster armor for this moment. They’d have to get Thor back, of course, since he was the only one who could transport them across the galaxy, but they had means of contacting him through the tablet Rocket had modified that…

He suddenly remembered that the person in possession of said tablet was hissing for his attention. In a normal tone of voice, he said, “Hey, Darcy. Heard from Thor lately?”

“Yeah. He’s still in a ship with Rocket and Eitri. They’re following a signal that looks Asgardian from the site of the freighter wreckage, but I actually need you for something else.” She glanced around as if she was concerned about spies in their midst. “Something sensitive.”

“I’m kind of busy right now.” He waved toward his monitors. “We’re almost ready to launch the orbital platform that will help us find Thanos.”

“Yeah, I get that you’re developing the means to pathfind a way to the big bad so maybe you can save everyone who got dusted, but I also know you’re mostly computer-driven at this point and this is, y’know, here and now and, like I said, sensitive.”

He blew a loud breath through pursed lips. The current test would take another hour and it was all automated, so there was nothing stopping him from helping Darcy with whatever she’d deemed urgent that didn’t involve her shouting for attention. “Okay. What can I do for you?”

She dropped her laptop in front of him with an amount of force that made him cringe. “Between 0218 and 0321 this morning, all internal monitoring equipment between the living quarters and conference room went snowy and dark. No video, no audio, el zilcho.”

“So? There was probably some scheduled downtime for system maintenance or something. That’s about the time it would happen on a quiet night when we’re all here.”

“Yeah, that’s what I would have thought if I hadn’t caught Natasha wiping down the table in the conference room this morning.”

He tried not to laugh out loud as he realized this was going to be a Darcy conspiracy theory moment. “I’m not following.”

“Bruce, Natasha had a fistful of paper towels in one hand and a bottle of disinfectant in the other and she was _wiping down the conference table_ , which was totally unmonitored for over an hour last night.” When he shook his head because he was at a loss at the lack of her usual logic, she looked at him as if he were an especially stubborn housecat that refused to admit that the cactus was not edible – Darcy had very specific expressions, he’d noticed. “Unless the next thing out of your mouth is how happy you’ll be to try and retrieve the missing and scrambled data with me, I will change my opinion of your intelligence and punch you.”

“Uh, I was just going to suggest that we see if there’s something there that we can clean up from that data. Maybe we could ask that computer guy from the Air Force team to…”

“No! I’m not involving hot nerds in this if there’s something…” she trailed off. “Not that you’re _not_ a hot nerd, Bruce, but, I mean…you’re no Airman First Class Porter. No offense.”

“Really? You’ve got a thing for Porter?”

“That is need to know and you don’t even need to know that much, so…” She waved her hands at her laptop. “Make with the digital magic.”

He went to work, but maintained the conversation, “I don’t understand why you’re so interested in this missing footage. Maybe if you explain it to me?”

“Uh, no! My goal is for you to help me out here, remember?”

“To what end?”

“Ideally? Blackmail material.”

His fingers froze over the keyboard. “Oh, no. You’re not involving me in anything illegal.”

“It’s not illegal if it’s just something I want as leverage to make sure I can get some vacation time when I want it.”

“Which is related to Natasha cleaning the table in the conference room? You have to know how ridiculous that sounds. I don’t think anyone would begrudge you time off even if you don’t have footage of Nat spilling her coffee or whatever reason you think she was wiping down the table for.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m insulted that you think I didn’t go back over the footage to determine if there had been a beverage incident. She walked in, put her stuff down and then decided the table needed cleaning. Second, just trust me that the reason for the spontaneous cleaning is worth of a week off, at least.”

“Do you actually…”

“Lemme stop you right there, Brucie. While I don’t think that anyone would stop me from taking time off, I also like the idea of being able to negotiate from the high ground.”

“Sure, but I was just going to ask if you’ve got an actual contract or something here. Didn’t you just show up and declare yourself as qualified for a position? What’s to stop you from leaving the same way?”

“That is so…” Darcy seemed to get lost in her thoughts for a moment, giving Bruce a moment to check his own monitors. Tests were still running at optimal levels. “Accurate. Wow. I _so_ could just leave at any time.”

“So, we can drop this blackmail campaign?”

“No, I’m gonna keep that on the back burner. No idea when I’ll need leverage.”

“I thought we just established…”

“Yeah, reminding everyone that I don’t actually work here will be a last resort. In the meantime…”

Darcy left the lab over an hour later, leaving Bruce none the wiser about what she’d been trying to establish had happened in the early morning hours in the conference room. He suspected that whatever it was, it was a figment of her overactive imagination fueled by too much Red Bull. He had already put it out of his mind when he turned back to the analysis of the sensor array.

* * *

Steve stood behind a wall of steel-framed windows at NASA’s Launch Control Center, looking out across LC-39 to the tower where Bruce and Dr. Selvig’s new satellite was mounted atop a rocket to be launched into orbit in – he glanced to the large backward ticking digital clock on the wall – a little less than two hours. The two scientists had been at Kennedy Space Center for the past three weeks preparing, working around the clock to ensure that all components were functional and ready. Engineers from both Stark Industries and SpaceX had volunteered their time to contribute to the effort. The result was apparently the fastest turnaround time to launch in NASA history.

Steve, Natasha and Rhodey had missed all that prep, only having arrived the previous day. They had been busy preventing a religious doomsday cult from poisoning the water supply for the city of St. Louis, then quelling a violent raskol gang war in Port Moresby before assisting the local government to retake control from Hydra-associated guerilla fighters in Magadan. The final mission had proven especially strange when the group of guerillas holding the main government offices had thrown down their weapons and begged for Natasha’s divine mercy the moment she’d been spotted on the scene; apparently there was actually something in the information Sharon had brought to HQ, even in the isolated eastern Siberian port city. Regardless, the help they were providing to keep the world stable remained valuable.

Hopefully, the satellite would only increase that positive influence.

Turning away from the Florida sunshine, Steve walked down the steps, past the computer banks buzzing with activity and toward the large room’s doors. He had gone into the ice before the space program had been a gleam in the scientific communities’ collective eye and woken up the same year the Space Shuttle had flown its last mission. He knew that he lacked the interest exhibited by people who had grown up with the so-called ‘space race’ and subsequent missions. (Natasha had filled him in with a US vs. USSR primer, during which she’d unconsciously adopted some significant pronouns – “You technically got monkeys into space first, but we managed to send _and_ recover Laika. Plus we got Yuri Gagarin into orbit before you even managed to get Alan Shepard on top of a rocket. But you did make the first moon landing.”) He still had some trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that the human race had actually left the planet, much less walked on the moon.

It was a good thing they knew Thor, because Steve had the feeling that they would have to go a lot further than the moon if they were going to get to Thanos.

He made a conscious choice to focus on the near future rather than the one somewhere out in space. Entering the conference room the Avengers had been offered as a temporary office, he asked, “How are things settling out in Papua New Guinea?”

“Situation is looks good, down to isolated pockets of fighting,” Rhodey replied. “PNG Police have arrested over thirty gang leaders and seized several caches of weapons above and beyond what we found. They’re already sending reserves back home.”

“Good. The cult situation?”

Darcy waved, “That’s me! FBI’s rounded them up and is currently all up in their bidness, by which I mean their secluded compound, by which I mean an illegal camp in the Mark Twain National Forest. Their satellite internet hookup was actually pretty impressive. I’d swipe right.”

“Then they’re no longer a threat?”

“Negatory, Cap. They probably won’t even get a footnote on the WikiCult page, assuming that’s a thing.”

“Good.” He sank into the empty chair beside Natasha, who wasn’t currently working on her laptop. He leaned over until his head was on her shoulder. “Magadan?”

“Still Russia.”

Shifting his neck, he tucked his nose under her ear. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. And if there was any new information, I’d share it.”

“Sorry.”

She shushed him. “You don’t have to be so tense. There’s nothing we can do right now but keep an ear to the ground and act when we see a need. Y’know, the usual.”

“I know, Nat.” He nuzzled into her hair and dropped his voice to a whisper, “You already knew all the stuff I just asked about, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you’ve been out of the room for a while.”

“True, but…not like I’m _not_ used to you taking charge.”

Her low chuckle in response was enough to get Darcy’s attention. “Oh, no you don’t! We are guests in this conference room and I refuse to deal with complaints from NASA HR and janitorial about the Avengers’ lack of respect for shiny wooden tables!”

Natasha twined her fingers through Steve’s. “Why don’t we take a walk, hm? Leave Darcy and her precious conference table in peace?”

He nodded and allowed her to lead him toward the hallway. As they were leaving, he heard Rhodey say, “Darcy, seriously?”

“Do not question me on this, Rhodey! The things I have seen cannot be unseen!”

Once they were back in the main launch center, Steve nudged Natasha with his elbow. “So, are you gonna stop messing with Darcy anytime soon?” A raised eyebrow was all he needed in response. “Right. I didn’t think so.”

“It’s harmless. And it’s not like we’ve actually done anything outside our quarters, unless we count your erotic artwork series.”

He blushed as they took their reserved seats by the large windows. Her response to the drawing he’d done during that meeting had proven inspirational; he was already on his second sketchbook of work that no one but Natasha was allowed to see, no matter how much she encouraged him to start a little gallery at HQ. There were enough people around right now that he could barely even think about those images, much less talk about them. He took a few deep breaths while he thought of a different topic. “I meant what I said, you know. About you being in charge? You’ve been in command since The Erasure and I respect that.”

“Steve…”

“I’m just trying to say that I’m sorry for stepping on your toes in there.”

“Yeah, what kind of man wants to hear about the results of his hard work?”

“That’s not what I…”

“I know what you meant.” Her hand was warm on his cheek as she turned his face toward her. “We’re partners, remember? We do these things together, same as we’ve been doing for the past – what? – two years, at least?”

It was true that their partnership had evolved since they’d become the rogue Avengers, but he’d always considered her an equal who simply deferred to him as team leader in the field because it made sense to have a single commander. He leaned gently into her hand as her nails scratched through his beard. “Thanks, Nat.”

She pressed a soft kiss to his lips before smiling widely. “Now, as far as who’s in charge of our marriage…”

“I have no illusions there, Ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

“Oh, hey guys,” Bruce said, wandering more than walking toward them. “Good seats for the launch, huh?” He flopped into the one beside Natasha. “Exciting day.”

“Have you gotten any sleep in the past week, Bruce?” she asked, concern in her voice.

“Of course. I slept a few hours yesterday.”

“Uh-huh. And what day was yesterday?”

“T-minus seventy-eight hours…um, Tuesday?”

“It’s Friday today.”

“I just need to make sure…everyone’s counting on this and…” He slid out of his chair and crumpled onto the floor, sobbing.

Steve was too shocked to move, but Natasha immediately got to her knees and started stroking Bruce’s back. “Hey, Bruce. Calm down. You’re overworked and exhausted. Why don’t we find somewhere for you to rest until the launch, okay?”

“No, no. I’m fine.” He pushed himself into a sitting position against the wall of windows, furiously scrubbing at his face with his hands. “Hold it together, Banner.”

“Bruce, let’s just go sit somewhere quiet for a little while. Can you do that? For me?”

He looked up at Natasha like he was seeing her there for the first time. “Nat, I…the things people are saying. I can’t…I _can’t_ …”

“Dr. Banner!” a skinny young man in rumpled khaki pants and a Stark Industries polo shirt suddenly cried out. “There you are! Sir, I am so, so sorry about that.”

“About what?” Steve demanded, regretting the fact that he had stood and crossed his arms over his chest at his approach because the poor kid practically dove for cover. Steve adjusted his tone and posture to seem less threatening. “Did something happen?”

“Um, Mr, Captain Sir. It’s an honor to…I mean, there was…I’m Theo.” He stuck his arm straight out with his thumb pointing up from his stiff hand. “I mean, pleased to meet you and my name is Theodore Wong, sir.”

“Steve Rogers,” he replied, shaking the kid’s hand with slightly less force than he’d normally use. “Now why are you apologizing to Dr. Banner?”

“SI assigned me to assist Dr. Banner while he’s here at Kennedy, although I mostly get coffee and make sure he has the things he needs and finds the right meetings and…anyway, there was this reporter… There aren’t supposed to be any reporters inside the perimeter, but this one got in and started asking Dr. Banner questions about the project and if it was true that it would help bring everyone back and poor Dr. Banner has been working nonstop for days and he just…I didn’t expect him to be able to run so fast!”

“The media shouldn’t have gotten details about the satellite,” Bruce mumbled from his spot on the floor. “How did she know?”

“It’s okay, Dr. Banner,” Theo said, squatting at Bruce’s side. “Security got her. The project is still basically confidential.”

Steve noted that Natasha bit back a smile. “Basically?”

“Those SpaceX people can’t keep their mouths shut, not like us. They just know it’s an important payload and that the Avengers are here so it’s related to The Erasure.”

“No press until the satellite gets into orbit and starts tracking,” Bruce said.

“No nothin’ for you until you get some sleep, a shower and a good meal, Bruce.” Natasha looped an arm under his and indicated that Theo should do the same. “Up on one, two, three…” They pulled him to his feet and she yanked his arm over her shoulders. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s find you a nice sofa. Back in a minute, Steve!”

As she walked off with Bruce, it took a moment for Steve to realize that Theo was still standing beside him, gaping. “Can I help you with anything?”

“What? Oh, no. Sorry. Crap. The same thing happened the time I met Mr. Stark. Is he…did he turn to dust? Because the news said that he left on a spaceship, but then…”

“We’re hopeful that he’s out there. I suppose this satellite we’re launching today might help us find him, too,” Steve added, though he had no idea if it would do any such thing. “We all just have to keep doing the best we can for each other and the world.”

“Whoa. Yeah. Very cool.” He nodded several times. “I don’t know if it’s cool to ask, but, could I get a selfie with you? My roommates’ll never believe I actually met you. Pics or it didn’t happen, y’know.”

“Sure, no problem.” Steve smiled for the camera as Theo held up his phone. When the kid still didn’t leave after thanking him profusely, he asked, “Is there something else you need?”

“Huh? Oh, I just…that _was_ Black Widow, right?”

Steve nearly rolled his eyes. “She probably took Dr. Banner to the conference room at the end of the hall. Aren’t you supposed to be his assistant?”

When Natasha rejoined him nearly twenty minutes later, she had two coffee cups and a request from Darcy to bring Theo onboard at Avengers HQ as a mascot they could dress up in funny outfits. “…but I think she was being snippy because he didn’t ask for a selfie with her. Either that or she thinks Porter might see him as competition and finally make a move. Oh, and we also may be asked to participate in a post-launch press conference.”

“We?” he asked suspiciously as he sipped his coffee.

“If you think we’re letting Bruce on camera before he’s had some decent rest and maybe a juice cleanse, you don’t get to participate either. Way to support your wife.”

“Do I have to say anything?”

“No, I’ll offer the platitudes. You can just sit there and look pretty.”

He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss near her wedding ring. “This is why you’re the one in charge.”

She offered him the kind of smile that usually had him thinking he was about to get very, very lucky, but as she leaned toward him for the expected kiss, there was a shout from somewhere nearby. He turned to see a woman pointing at something outside the windows. Beside him, Natasha swore quietly in Russian.

He followed the gaze of the gathering crowd to see a pasty white naked man running around the scrub grass and paved areas just outside the building, leading a pack of uniformed security personnel on a roundabout chase, as none of them seemed willing to tackle him. “Is that…?”

“Yeah.” Natasha sank back in her chair and began texting. “Don’t worry. Bruce is safe under the table in the conference room and Selvig is Darcy’s responsibility.”

“Is he? Um, good?” Outside, Dr. Selvig continued to evade capture by sheer force of his nudity. A few minutes later, Darcy did appear outside holding up what looked like a small jar of mayonnaise. “What the…”

“She said something about her emergency supply of pickled herring when she ran out,” Rhodey said as he occupied his reserved seat on Steve’s other side. “And Banner is passed out with his babysitter keeping watch, so he should be…oh!”

Dr. Selvig had just gone down after accepting Darcy’s offering.

“So glad we never let him try a suit,” Natasha murmured under her breath. Steve could only grasp her hand and glance at the clock, wondering if all rocket launches were so exciting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilery Rant, Part V: Separate spoilers for the new Spiderman trailer, so you've been warned. Anyway, while I agree that it's totally in character for Peter Parker to be torn up about Tony's death, I will be supremely pissed if either Nick Fury or Maria Hill have any positive response to all this Stark haigiography. All I require is a variation on the following scene:  
> Fury: I'm gonna stop you right there, son, because Stark isn't the only one who died so everyone could come back. I lost my best goddamned agent in this war!  
> Peter: Wow, Mr. Stark was your best agent?  
> Fury: ::iz 2 pissed 2 speak::  
> Maria: You should probably step out for a second, kiddo. ::Peter leaves the room:: Sir, I miss her too, but we have to deal with the current situation.  
> 20 seconds. That's all I'm demanding, short of Jake Gyllenhaal sexily bringing Natasha back via the multiverse.
> 
> Added note: DrunkMe knows she isn't allowed to post, but DrunkMe doesn't always follow the rules. I read this chapter over today for some light editing, but hit me up if there are any grammar/gremlins that I missed. I stand behind the unpredictable exhausted science boys, though.


	15. Chapter 15

Although the satellite, officially named Seeker 1 (as suggested by the project nerds) and popularly called Spacevenger (because Darcy managed the team’s social media accounts), had yet to find any signs of Thanos or the Infinity Stones, it _had_ managed to expedite Thor’s search for his people. The powerful sensors had tracked the signal he had been following to not only the refugees from his ship, but a colony of exiled Asgardians from Loki’s time on the throne that had taken them in. His first visit to Earth since reuniting with them was only moments away.

Natasha found it impossible not to smile as the rush of air lifted her hair off her shoulders on the lawn of Avengers HQ. She leaned into Steve when he squeezed her hand, hope almost palpable in the air. She closed her eyes for a moment as the bright light of the Bifrost appeared, aligning exactly with the mark left on the grass years before. When she opened her eyes, Thor was standing there, in all his glory, flanked by not only the raccoon he’d brought to Wakanda, but a giant, a rock man, a purple slug and two dangerous looking women.

Thor placed his axe on the ground the moment the light dissipated. “My friends…I am so glad to be here with you again!”

Natasha almost teared up as Steve was the first to accept Thor’s embrace. The two men remained in each other’s arms until one of the women who’d come with Thor laughed and said, “I don’t think that’s how we’re gonna populate New Asgard, but I’ll definitely watch you try!”

To her surprise, Bruce rushed forward to hug the woman. “Val! It’s so good to see you!”

Before Natasha could ask how Bruce knew a random Asgardian woman, Thor had wrapped her in a hug and lifted her off the ground. “I can finally congratulate the beautiful bride in person!”

“Thank you!” she replied, returning the kiss he planted on her cheek a little more delicately. “I’m just happy you found your people.”

His bright smile dimmed slightly as he set her down with a murmured, “What’s left of them.”

“I’m sorry, Thor.” She knew he had held out hope that those who had escaped Thanos’ massacre on the freighter would be spared the effects of The Erasure, but it had not been the case.

“No matter. Now is an occasion for joy because we are here together!” As he regained some of his enthusiasm, he boomed, “Selvig!”

The greetings eventually gave way to introductions between the team and Thor’s entourage, followed by a move inside to the giant buffet Darcy had arranged to have catered in honor of the occasion. Natasha made an effort to speak to all of the new arrivals, allowing her noticeably uncomfortable husband’s attention to be monopolized by the other Asgardian woman, an exile named Sif. She would be having a private conversation with Sif later if she continued to fixate on Steve, of course, but it was more than okay for the moment, especially after Valkyrie sidled up to her to say, “Your man seems more than a little intimidated by my woman.”

“He’s just being polite. She’s a guest, after all.” Besides, he was ridiculously cute when flustered, that pink blush creeping up his neck only to be concealed by his beard before popping up on his cheeks where she could practically feel the heat against her palms… Or between her thighs… Natasha abruptly remembered that she was in the middle of a conversation. “I’m not worried about Steve. And since you don’t seem worried…”

“Nah. I’m pretty sure she’s just trying to make Thor jealous.” Valkyrie took a long drink from the bottle of vodka she was holding. “Oh, you’ve got the good stuff here! Anyway, Sif’s suddenly got baby-making on the brain and Thor’s been resistant to offering the appropriate contribution, so…oh, look at him cringe!”

Natasha nearly laughed at the terrified look Steve shot her, but just shrugged in faux-helplessness. Turning her attention back to Valkyrie, she asked, “So, how do you know Bruce? I’m guessing it involves his time on that gladiator thing?”

“Sakaar, yeah. I mostly know him when he’s big and green, but he’s alright this way. How’d he get back to Earth, anyway? Last I saw him, he was helping out by tossing Asgardians into escape pods.”

Natasha was at a loss. Bruce had told her he’d been ‘sent’ from the freighter to the wizard headquarters in New York (they’d made contact with a reluctant Wong since The Erasure without establishing any formal ties or regular communication), but she’d never gotten more details regarding Bruce’s actual method of travel. Valkyrie seemed more concerned that her bottle was now empty and excused herself to get another. Natasha took the opportunity to mount a rescue mission, but as she was walking toward Steve, Rocket stopped her with a plate of shrimp balanced in one hand – paw – and a beer in the other. “Hey, you’re from this planet. I got a question for you.”

“Yes?”

“So, you know about these, uh, _Earth raccoons_ , right?”

“What, exactly, do I know about them?”

“Naw, I just mean that you know they’re real.” When she nodded he went on in a voice she had to lean down to hear, “So, last time I was on Earth, the little guy compensating with the big suit told me that if I went to a forest in North America, I could maybe find some lady raccoons and, uh, well…I don’t gotta spell it out for you, do I?”

Natasha bit back a smile. “I’d honestly prefer if you didn’t.”

“Cool, cool. So, uh, not that I’m lookin’ to blow off the party but…how can I get to North America?”

“You’re already there.”

“Seriously?”

She hadn’t been aware that raccoons could salivate, but, in spite of that, she said, “We’ve probably got raccoons in the woods on the compound. I think they’re nocturnal, so you may have to wait a few hours.”

“Hey, fine with me. That’s enough time to drink more then sleep it off.”

“Just don’t get rabies.”

“That some kinda STD?”

“For you?” She considered for a moment. “Might be.”

“Eh, I’ll take my chances.”

“Bruce explained to you that raccoons are wild animals that don’t talk, right?”

“Yeah, like I wanna hook up with a chick who’s gonna demand I call the next day!” He accepted a fresh beer that Thor offered him when he approached. “This guy knows what I’m talkin’ about!”

Natasha would have been interested in hearing some gossip about Thor, if only to lord it over Darcy later, but he still seemed to be carrying the sadness she’d noticed earlier even as he said, “Do not listen to Rabbit. He has a warrior’s instinct for telling tales, which is second only to that of a fisherman. Natasha, may I speak to you for a moment?” He glanced down at Rocket, who was staring up expectantly with a mouthful of shrimp. “Alone?”

Rocket walked off toward the buffet, mumbling audibly about his baculum. She looped her arm through Thor’s and guided him to a private corner, where he flopped into a chair and seemed more inclined toward his flask than actually having the conversation he had suggested. She sipped her own drink quietly before prompting, “So, what’s up?”

He made eye contact while taking a long drink from his flask. She waited him out and he eventually said, “Lady Sif wishes to have a child by me.”

Natasha nodded, wondering how she had become the team’s unofficial family planning consultant; she’d talked Pepper down several times, including a multi-hour rant about the wine she’d drunk following The Erasure and how any issues with the baby would all be due to her weakness while Natasha had convinced Pepper that everything would be okay. The current situation was hardly the same, but Natasha maintained a sympathetic expression. “Valkyrie mentioned something like that. I take it you’re not okay with this arrangement?”

“I feel as if I…there was a time when Sif and I considered a romantic liaison, but now… I do not begrudge her relationship with Valkyrie and I am truly pleased that my friends have found love together but…”

“You don’t like being a means to an end,” Natasha filled in.

“Indeed. If I am to father a child with someone I care for to be raised by two people I care for, I wish to have a place in that child’s life.”

“Have Sif and Val told you that you won’t?”

“Not in so many words.”

“Thor, you have to know what I’m about to suggest, right?”

 “How do I even begin such a conversation without implying that I am already agreeing to her desires?” He huffed with frustration and took another long drink. “I do not wish to make things difficult, but I am considering my own child. How can I not be involved?”

“Do you want me to talk to Sif?”

Thor brightened at the suggestion. “Would you? I would be eternally grateful.”

“Wait here.” Natasha was more determined this time as she made her way toward Steve, waving off Darcy’s suggestion to do a shot of something greenish with Korg and Miek in favor of slipping her arm around Steve’s waist. “Hey, babe. Being a good intergalactic ambassador?”

The look he gave her was nothing short of worshipful, though his voice contained only relief when he said her name, “Natasha.” He drew her even closer with his arm around her shoulders, “I was just telling Lady Sif about…”

Sif cut him off, eyes boring into Natasha’s, “Look, let’s cut right to the bone. I know he’s your husband and you’re probably not going to be receptive to the idea of me having a baby with him, but I really…”

“Let me stop you right there, because if you continue, I’m going to separate your head from your shoulders, no matter how endangered Asgardians currently are.” She hadn’t intended to be so direct, but if Sif wanted to go that route... Natasha waited a moment to ensure that Sif was taking her seriously before she went on, “I just spoke to Thor and he’s mostly reluctant about fathering a child he won’t get to be a dad to, okay? If that’s not going to be a problem, then you should go tell him so you can resolve your issues without hitting on my husband or getting yourself murdered.”

In the silence that followed, Natasha subtly reached for the combat knife at her belt, but she ended up on the receiving end of a sobbing embrace rather than a vicious attack from Sif. As it turned out, her desire to be a mother was in the planning phase rather than the execution phase and the long lifespan of an Asgardian meant that she wasn’t necessarily thinking in the immediate future. “I just want to have the option and know it’s there,” she explained, still wrapped around Natasha, although both Thor and Valkyrie had joined them at that point to offer support and further clarification about future plans. Steve had moved back a few steps, though he hadn’t relocated to the other side of the room as everybody else had.

He returned to Natasha’s side when Sif eventually let her go, retreating to a guest suite with Thor and Valkyrie to talk further. She wanted to demand that he carry her back to their own quarters, but there were still newcomers that they should get to know.

As it turned out, Eitri the gigantic dwarf had some very entertaining stories that became more raucous as the afternoon went on. “But when we dug him out, Gullinbursti still glowed with the light of a thousand stars and Loki was forced to feed his own hair to Sleipnir!”

“Hey guys,” Korg interjected, “Miek says that’s like the time his brother tried to chop his arms off, but fell into the fire canal instead! So…maybe not as funny, if you didn’t know his brother, I guess.”

At Miek’s chirping sound of agreement, the party broke up, with the Earthbound Avengers leading Thor’s entourage to their accommodations, though Natasha was left to drag Darcy to bed.

When she got back to her own quarters, Natasha practically collapsed into bed. Her well-trained husband didn’t hesitate to start rubbing her shoulders. “Thanks for saving me from Sif today.”

“I think you were doing pretty well on your own.”

His thumbs dug into the muscles of her neck, causing her to shudder. He continued massaging her as if nothing had happened. “I just mean that you stepped in before I had to come right out and say no. I have no intention of making any ‘genetic contribution’ to a stranger, no matter who she knows.”

“I shouldn’t have left you alone with her for so long.” It was much easier to admit fault when she wasn’t watching him blush from across the room. “You _were_ very diplomatic, though.”

“I was imagining I was at the UN, just like you told me.”

It was like a switch had flipped in her brain. There was no reason for his simple admission that he’d taken her advice to heart to provoke such a profound change in her thinking, but…here it was. If Pepper was having a baby and Sif was possibly having a baby, what was to stop her, Natasha, from having a baby? At the very least, she could talk to Shuri about whether her healing machine was a plausible fix before talking to an IVF specialist and…and…

“Steve?” She rolled out from under him, then swallowed hard and blinked before meeting his eyes. “I think I’m ready to talk about it.”

“Talk about…” She loved that he didn’t need clarification before he finally asked, “A baby? For us?”

“Hey, I just said talk.”

“I know, but, Nat…” His lips met hers with a passion that was indescribable. When their kiss ended, he pulled back only slightly. “Talking about the future doesn’t exclude practice right now, does it?”

“Everybody needs practice,” she countered, surrendering to him.

At least it was a few hours before they had to call an emergency vet to administer rabies shots to Rocket.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the gap between updates, but I got distracted by a sudden inspiration on my Natnesia fic and was distracted by the shiny.

“Hmm…oh, that looks good. I do like this one, though. And _this_ is brand new. I guess I could have them all, but it seems like a lot at once…”

“You do realize that’s not a menu, right?” Steve undid his jeans to give himself some room as he watched Natasha flipping through his sketchbook as she lay naked on their bed. Ever since they’d had the complicated conversation about starting a family, she had been nearly insatiable in spite of the fact that they had yet to visit Wakanda for the necessary healing treatment with Shuri’s equipment. (They’d skipped the conversation about distracting Shuri from her inevitable coronation with the scientific challenges she continually presented Queen Ramonda as a barrier to said coronation.) He tried to ignore the hand she slipped between her legs and asked, “Should I have numbered the pages so you could request a particular combo?”

“Tempting.” Natasha’s attention remained focused on his sketchbook. “But this just looks so _delicious_!” She turned the pad to show him one of the few pictures he’d done of her with his dick in her mouth. She raised her hand and sucked her index finger suggestively. “I can almost taste it!”

“Nat…c’mon.” He felt himself flushing, the heat nearly searing his skin in spite of the fact that they were alone in their bedroom and she was showing him a drawing he’d done himself. Sure, he had only done any blowjob sketches because she had basically ordered him to, and while he had no qualms about actually receiving blowjobs, there was something about seeing it from…well, he’d drawn it from his own perspective, but the angle at which she was holding the sketch made it look different, like maybe she had an unfamiliar dick in her mouth…

He suddenly realized that she had been talking while he’d been lost in his embarrassment. “…like, one big one on and the ceiling and a couple on the wall, maybe a freestanding one we can move around. That would be good, right?”

“That…what?”

“I knew you weren’t listening. I guess I’ll have to get someone else to help me put up all the mirrors and then _everyone_ will know that Captain America is a total perv.” Between his blush and his erection, he was sure that there was absolutely no blood going to his brain right now to process what she was saying, but she continued, “I just think you could use some more visual input. I mean, you always make your hands very detailed and I’ve got nothing but positive things to say about how realistically you draw your _amazing_ cock, but you never to justice to the rest of your body. Your ass, for example.”

His gratification at the praise regarding his dick was lost in the follow-up. “I don’t need to hear about my ass.” His backside was a functional part of his body that did the jobs he needed it to do. “What could you even say about it?”

“Seriously, Steve?” He had never been so sure of making an obvious mistake, including when Peggy had fired off several rounds at his yet-unproven shield, as he was at that moment when Natasha looked at him. If she had just been paying a compliment before, she was certainly waxing poetic now as she said, “How can you not be aware of your amazing, transcendent ass? It’s like stepping into a sculpture gallery at the Louvre where a bunch of art students are trying to take a plaster cast of nature’s ideal gluteus maximus. You’ve got these perfect little half-moons coming off that damned narrow waist with these, like, cutouts on the sides made of muscle and I can grab it and squeeze it and your skin is so smooth that when you tense up you look like one of those Renaissance marble sculptures…”

He flinched away as she motioned with one hand like she was actually grabbing him. “Nat!”

“Aw, are you embarrassed that your ass is a work of art?” She rolled onto her stomach, displaying her own gloriously bare ass. “Don’t even get me started on your chest, then. Or your abs. Next time we have a team spaghetti dinner, I’m getting a block of parmesan to grate on them.”

“That is disturbing.”

“Only for anyone who isn’t me. Or Darcy, obviously. The Asgardian lover girls if we happen to invite them. Oh, or if Pepper is…”

“Please stop.”

“What? My husband is hot and I get to be proud of that and lord it over other women. And men. And aliens.”

“You need to stop spending so much time with Darcy. You’re starting to sound a little like her.”

“Hardly. She’s only comfortable teasing you because she knows I’m letting her. If I gave her the slightest hint that she needed to back off, she would stop all comments about your chiseled torso immediately.”

“Oh?” He immediately felt more comfortable when she put the sketchbook aside and focused all her attention on him. “Well, if you’re so obsessed with my torso… Did you want me to take off my shirt, then?”

“Well, not being the artist here, I suppose I could use a reminder.”

He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, watching the way her pupils dilated as he exposed more skin. He couldn’t help but say, “I know you’re pretty imaginative, though. And you’ve got a great memory. Are you saying you can’t pull up a picture of me shirtless whenever you want?”

“Seems silly to make the admittedly minimal effort when you’re standing right in front of me.” She rose up on her knees so she was slightly taller than her normal standing height, slipping her hands under his partially unbuttoned shirt to ruck up the undershirt he was wearing. He shuddered slightly as she stroked over his nipples before cupping his pecs the same way he usually did with her breasts. “Much warmer than marble.”

“Mmmhmm,” he groaned as she made quick work of the remaining buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders as he pulled his undershirt over his head. Soft moans and grunts accompanied their motions. Her lips kissed down his neck, sucking over his Adam’s apple before he remembered that he could be touching her right now. He mirrored her earlier movements on her body, cupping her breasts as she pressed her body against his. He cautiously squeezed a nipple between his thumb and forefinger as his other hand encircled her body, pulling her against him. His lower lip dragged over hers as she made her way back to his mouth, her tongue igniting long stretches of his skin before she tugged on his beard with her teeth. “Nat…you feel…”

Her reply was a less than romantic, “Get your damn pants off, Rogers.”

He complied, pushing his boxers and jeans down as he leaned over their bed. He paused as she dropped down under him, her arms opening up in front of him as her legs spread to accept him. “Natasha, you are so beautiful.”

“You’re just as beautiful, babe.”

He didn’t bother to argue as her caresses went lower, though he had his doubts. No matter how attractive she said she found him, he knew he couldn’t possibly compare to her impeccable body with her creamy skin and perfect curves, not even if he counted what she considered imperfections; he loved her scars, the marks that proved what a hero she was, no matter how reluctant she was to accept the designation. His dream was to convince her that the whole world loved her and valued her contributions just as much as he did. He knew that her actions over the past months as the face of the Avengers before the needy world proved her worth, no matter what any contrary media claimed. She was every bit the hero the UN and world media wanted to portray her as. She was even more heroic in his eyes, knowing what she actually accomplished on a daily basis. He dipped his head between her breasts, tracing his tongue down through her cleavage and over her stomach. He imagined a crowd cheering as he swept his tongue over her right hipbone before darting up her left and watching the shiver of thighs as she anticipated his touch in her most sensitive spots.

He didn’t keep her waiting, dipping his head to push his tongue against her. He pressed his index finger into her as he lapped at her, earning a moan and a hand on his head. A second finger and pursed lips around her clit got him fingernails digging into his scalp. She pushed her hips against his face, prompting him to moan against her. Before he could guide her over the edge with his mouth and fingers, the insistent pull of her hand was dragging him back up her body. His lips puckered at her nipples as she pulled him upward by his jaw.

“Nat, you could at least…” He trailed off as he realized that he was now fully on top of her, blanketing her much smaller body with his, though she didn’t seem to mind. He leaned down to kiss her, their lips pressing together in wonderful ways that had him seeing stars. He managed to gasp her name, “Nat…”

“Mmm.” Her sure touch replaced his inadequate thrusts between her thighs to align him properly. He felt himself squeaking out an odd whine as he pushed into her, only justified by her own soundless expression that he tried to commit to memory so he could reproduce it on paper later. She quickly transitioned into her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she gasped, ”Steve!”

He pumped his hips harder, prompting further gasps from his wife even as he pushed into her. “Natasha…oh, Nat…”

“Steve, more!” she cried out, clasping him inside her by wrapping her legs around his hips. He shortened his strokes, increasing their speed and force. Her lips moved against his collarbone as she gasped, “Oh! Just like that!”

“I love…” he trailed off as she clenched down on him inside her. She felt amazing and she was amazing and he had to tell her before his brain blanked out, “Nat, I love you!”

“Love yoooo…” The second word dragged out into a cry of pleasure as she came, squeezing him inside her until he followed suit a moment later. He settled on top of her as they came down, not that he could have moved if he had the motivation to – her legs and arms were still holding him against her body. She was the first to speak through her panting, “Love you, too.”

“Yeah, I figured that’s where you were going with that.”

“Don’t laugh.” She sucked at his lower lip before turning it into a kiss. She didn’t let him roll off of her, maintaining her four-limbed embrace. “Mmm, just imagine what you’d be seeing right now if we had lots of mirrors.”

He pulled back slightly and looked down at Natasha, his _wife_ , and said, “I see everything I want to see right now.”

To his surprise, she shoved at him. “Stop being sweet and put some mirrors on the ceiling!”

“I’ll think about it,” he replied, not bothering to suppress his laughter. “Maybe I’d understand the merits of the suggestion if you were on top and I…”

“Don’t get greedy. I need a few minutes.”

He settled on his back and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she snuggled against his side. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“That’s what worries me.”

“Um, Nat?”

She rested her chin on his shoulder so they could look at each other. “I just mean that while we’re here doing the best we can with everyone that’s left, it may not be enough because we’re accepting that some people are gone. I want us to have a baby, but I can’t help but think it’s the ultimate sign of…moving on, y’know? We’re thinking about bringing an entirely new person into the world before we’ve brought back the people who were already here and I just don’t know if it’s right.”

He felt the wind leave his sails by the transition from sexy to serious, but he tightened his arm around her shoulders. After a moment’s thought he said, “You remember what you told me when I asked about your hair the other day?”

“Steve…”

“No, I mean it.” He ran his fingers through the red tresses that transitioned to blonde in a less definite line than they had a month or two previously. “You said that you thought it sent the wrong message to dye your hair in light of what was happening in the world.”

“Some reporter at the UN asked the same question a few days later and I had a ready-made soundbite about putting the future of humanity over aesthetic concerns. The media ate it up.”

“You basically said that there was no time to think about the petty stuff and nature should take its course. What’s more natural than a married couple having a baby?”

She murmured something about him being old fashioned as she ducked into his neck.

He angled his head to press a kiss to her forehead. “If you’re having second thoughts…”

“No!” She raised her head so quickly that she almost headbutted him. “I want a child with you. I just…I…”

“I’m scared too. I think all potential parents are, but we’ve got a lot more to lose, at least in the eyes of everyone else. I guess it just matters that we do what we know is right for us.”

She exhaled loudly against his chest. “How is it that you always know the right thing to say, no matter what the situation? Was that a side effect of your serum?”

“Um…”

“Okay, I’m getting on top now.”

Steve vaguely thought that maybe they should continue their conversation, but Natasha was suddenly straddling his hips and he couldn’t think about anything else.


	17. Chapter 17

Natasha bowed in respect to the fourth or fifth European monarch an anonymous underling introduced her to at this particular banquet, which was billed as an opportunity for European and NATO powers to hobnob at a gala event for… reasons. Her only previous visits to Stockholm City Hall had involved the planning and subsequent assassination of an ambassador following an event in the Blue Hall, so this was a nice alternative. It was more a celebration of six months of continued human existence for the western world than anything else, as far as she could tell. She supposed they had done pretty well in the wake of The Erasure. Better than anyone could have expected and a lot better than some other worlds were doing; the Asgardian colony had trade relationships with other worlds and provided regular intel about what was happening throughout the galaxy. Sif had actually proven a reliable ally that Natasha enjoyed talking to and kind of wanted to spar with, especially after going a few rounds against Valkyrie.

Tonight was not a night to think about fighting, however. She and Steve were here as goodwill ambassadors, a description that Darcy hadn’t been able to deliver with a straight face as Rhodey had been doubled over laughing behind her because he’d been saddled with the same mission at a USAF event not long before. While Natasha didn’t really enjoy participating in these types of things, preferring to be in the field where she could do the most good, she recognized the importance of being seen on television as a participating member of geopolitics. She had duly mingled, smiled, conversed and shaken hands with many, many politicians, royals and diplomats prior to the dinner for the past hour, draining more than one flute of champagne and losing track of her husband as she had to keep switching languages. She hoped he’d found some English or French speaking company to entertain him.

As the King of Belgium was guided toward another VIP, Steve, looking equal parts handsome and awkward in his tailored tuxedo, came up beside her and slid his hand around her waist as he whispered, “The French First Lady wants to pick your brain for workout tips, so heads up on that. And the Italian delegation is apparently already complaining about the food we haven’t eaten yet.” He leaned down to add in a whisper, “So, this is where you’ll be accepting your Nobel Prize?”

“This is just where they hold the banquet,” she whispered back, taking the opportunity to nuzzle under his ear. “Besides, the Peace Prize is awarded in Oslo and there’s no indication that they’ll be awarding any Nobels this year, given the circumstances.”

“Just because the entertainment industry called a moratorium on awards shows this year doesn’t mean they won’t decide to award you with…”

“Please don’t.” (Darcy had gone on a rant after that announcement, her conspiracy theory being that lazy producers didn’t want to put together the no doubt exhaustive ‘In Memoriam’ segments, which had provoked heated arguments from Steve and Bruce regarding their uselessness, as the Avengers were still working to bring everyone, including Meryl Streep, Jackie Chan and Oprah, back.) She pecked his lips before saying, “Why don’t we take a walk upstairs through the Golden Hall before your head explodes, hm?”

“Yeah, because walking through a thing called the ‘Golden Hall’ isn’t gonna have the same effect.” In spite of his murmured argument, he guided her toward the marble staircase and up to the second level balcony, his presence at her side a pleasant sensation in itself. She watched as his eyes widened when they entered the upstairs hall. “Wow. No wonder we’re eating downstairs.”

“If you think this is ostentatious, wait until we eventually visit Russia.” They hadn’t made plans to do so, given the current bizarrely reverential Russian attitude toward her, but she knew that she would like to take him to Moscow and St. Petersburg, eventually, to show him some of the good things about the culture she had been raised in. “This, however, is where they have the Ball following the Nobel Banquet, if that feeds your current obsession.”

“Anything to get you all dolled up.” He eyed her up and down. She could spot the exact moment when he fixed on exactly how high the slit on the skirt of her dark blue gown went as she gave the skirt a gentle swish. His Adam’ apple bobbed over his bowtie before he said, “’Course, your catsuit is a personal favorite.”

She laughed and dragged him toward one of the large mosaics on either end of the hall as a distraction. “If you’re interested in an art history lesson about the murals in here, my cover was a tour guide while I learned the building layout…” she trailed off as she realized what she’d been about to tell him.

It was obvious to her that he had at least guessed about the backstory when he pointed enthusiastically toward a wall of the mosaic. “Am I crazy or is that the Statue of Liberty?”

“Good eye, babe.” She grasped his hand tighter and leaned into him. “There’s a whole West meets East theme on this wall if you look at the one side with the Statue of Liberty and Eiffel Tower and then the other with an elephant and the Hagia Sophia.”

“Then why is there a giant Medusa in the middle?”

“That’s actually…”

Her explanation about the Lady of Lake Mälaren was cut off by the approach of a woman in a red dress saying in Russian, “Excuse me, your highness, but I could not help but…”

“No. Нет,” she replied immediately. People claiming to represent the popular will of the Russian people had been trying to contact her more and more lately; Darcy’s computer boy Porter (that she hadn’t yet asked out) had created a dummy email account for them to send messages to in the hopes that the immediate automated reply would discourage them. The alleged discouragement had yet to be proven. Natasha had hoped this event would be managed well enough to avoid any such encounters, but it was hard to predict who would perpetrate them, considering that the Russian ambassador at the UN had fallen sobbing at her feet last month, apropos of nothing. Without further consideration, she grasped Steve’s arm and guided him toward one of her favorite murals. “You have to see the three-headed monster holding a pair of scissors to clip the people’s coupons or something…”

“I do not wish to upset you, your highness…” Natasha continued to ignore the woman, now tugging an increasingly suspicious Steve (whose Russian was still basic) out of the Golden Hall, back toward the balcony and the stairs. The woman persisted, “Your highness, I am your cousin, Nadia, from the Mikhailovich branch of the Romanov family and I believe that you…”

Having heard enough, Natasha whirled on the woman and shoved her into an alcove of the Golden Hall, hissing in Russian, “Listen, you and all your little apparatchiki need to stop. I am not your empress and I am not the Russian messiah. Leave me alone and let me live my life. Handle your own house.”

The woman, Nadia if she was to be believed, hissed back, “It is _our_ house! And you are its head! Reclaim the seat you were born for, your highness!”

While Natasha had been talking to this crazy woman, Steve had managed to flag down a pair of security guards to escort her out. He discreetly led Natasha back down the stairs as the woman began to shout, thankfully still in Russian, “I beg you not to deny your people, your highness! Return our nation to our former glory! Only you will save us! Only you will redeem the Russian people!”

She maintained her grasp on his arm and didn’t throw up the rude gesture she wanted to in full view of the attentive audience in the Blue Hall as the woman was dragged through a door upstairs. The Prince of Monaco met them with a slightly sarcastic smile at the bottom of the staircase, asking in French, “Are you all right, Ms. Romanov?”

“Quite all right, Prince Albert.” She found it easy to resume her persona of the jet-setting envoy of the Avengers. “Have you met my husband yet? And how is Prince Jacques coping with the loss of his mother?”

The conversation ended quickly, but Steve remained a bit shaken, especially when she managed a whispered explanation about what the woman had been saying between smiley greetings with European leaders. By the time they sat down to the multi-course dinner in the Blue Hall, he had readjusted to his diplomatic persona. Fortunately, it wasn’t the kind of dinner that separated spouses for the sake of forcing conversation between strangers. He leaned toward her as the Queen of Denmark rose to say a few words between the appetizer and salad. “I never knew so many countries had kings and queens. I mean, Holland and Belgium? We lived in both of those places and I never realized there was a monarchy!”

“Probably for the best, considering how America treats kings.” She hid her grin behind her wineglass, though that was more related to his warm hand on her thigh. “You probably would have put on your old suit and stormed the _Place Royale_ in Brussels if you’d known.”

“Hey, I was nothing but polite when I met George VI during our USO tour in England. I always thought his daughter was more impressive, anyway. Heck of a mechanic, from what I heard.”

“Well…” She was distracted by the Prime Minister of Finland on her right for the majority of the salad and entrée, mostly regarding congratulations about her refusal to engage with the new imperial Russian intentions that could put Finnish sovereignty at risk. She reassured him several times that she had no intentions of reigniting the Winter War (odd in itself because why would the Avengers try to take over a functioning country?) or assuming any kind of status in Russia by the time the dessert was served. At least he seemed convinced of her disinterest in the Russians as they tucked into the avocado crème brûlée that had no right to be as delicious as it was. 

Steve leaned back over her shoulder to whisper, “You sure you’re doing okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you’ve been chatting to the guy on your right in Swedish for the past half-hour, so I just figured it might be something controversial.”

She had to think back for a moment about which language she’d been speaking, as she’d found that Finns usually spoke both their own language and Swedish, in addition to any other number of European languages. “No, that was Finnish. The KGB went through a fad when I was coming up that we would reclaim Finland so…”

He suddenly kissed her with a lick over her lower lip that told her she’d probably had a speck of her dessert there. Maybe. When he pulled back, she whispered, “You don’t have to get so possessive, you know. His wife survived The Erasure. She’s sitting on his other side.”

“So did mine, thank God.” He pressed his lips to hers again. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like monopolizing your attention, though.”

“Steve…”

“Hold that thought. Based on the sign that one guy is holding up, the King of Norway, another country I didn’t realize still had a king, looks like he wants to say something.”

Natasha held Steve’s hand through the rest of the night, royal addresses notwithstanding. He was willing to take some time to allow her appropriate recognition on the world stage. They were overdue for a visit to their house in Châtelet following their medical visit to Wakanda, anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this is a short chapter. But...reasons. Sorry, but I don't like getting super personal online. But more soon, vague promises.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of updates.

“Steve, just…stop asking and relax!”

Natasha’s order was impossible to follow as Steve raised his shield to cover his head, a spray of dirt and debris shooting over him from the rocket impacting somewhere on the hill above. The line of battle had recently moved from a block of apartment buildings in the wealthier area of the city to a stretch of wooded parkland, hopefully to be quelled before it shifted back to an even more crowded residential area.

Their trip to Wakanda for Natasha’s healing treatment and a visit with their allies had been interrupted by an uprising of suspiciously well-armed Shegués – street children – in Kinshasa, probably intended to provide a distraction for a local warlord, who styled himself as Colonel Punda, attempting to take over the Congolese government. The situation remained under control to the degree that Rhodey and Bruce remained on standby in an approaching quinjet while Steve and Natasha were on the ground, aiding the Wakandan effort to stabilize the situation.

Although he couldn’t hear any more incoming rockets, Steve kept the shield raised. Natasha wasn’t sheltering under it, where he would have preferred her to be at the moment. Or any moment when they were facing fire, really. He could just see the flash of the ends of her blonde hair from her cover behind a wide tree trunk a few meters to his left. He glanced up to ensure that his path to the top of the small hill was clear before saying into his comms, “I just want to be sure you’re not!”

“I literally _just_ had the treatment two days ago and Shuri said it will take at least a few weeks to determine if it actually worked,” Natasha shouted back. The treatment had been anti-climactic, with Natasha lying on a table under an oddly angular golden dome made of stiff wires while Steve had held her hand and Shuri had pressed buttons that seemed to change the intensity of the yellow light shining over Natasha’s bare stomach, her scar from her first encounter with Bu-…with the Winter Soldier shrinking and disappearing before his eyes. Why had that glimpse of smooth, healed skin been the only confirmation he’d needed? He shook his head to clear the distraction of her bare skin and swiveled to get a better view of his immediate surroundings as she continued, “Besides, I’m not even ovulating right now.”

“You’re sure?” He wasn’t sure how she could know that, just that he trusted her to know something like that. Still, he asked, “Like, _really_ sure?”

“Yeah. Really sure.” She disappeared to lay down covering fire as he approached the top of the hill. “I’m gonna make you look up the word ‘spinnbarkeit’ when this is over.”

“Perhaps you two could have this conversation later, yes? Privately?” General Okoye suggested over the comms. “Or at least when we are not all on the same channel in a battle.”

“Sorry,” Steve replied, though Natasha just gave a scoffing laugh and gestured for the team to move forward toward his position.

A sudden lull in the rocket and small-arms barrage allowed Okoye and three of her Dora Milaje warriors to approach and set up a defensive perimeter just under the crest of the hill. Natasha joined them a moment later, saying, “Glad those poor kids don’t have much training with the LRACs they’re firing. Any intel on how we can flank them before they hurt themselves?”

“We are receiving satellite data now,” Okoye said, staring intently at the hologram map projected from her bracelet.

Steve kept his shield up, a barrier to any incoming ordinance as Natasha sidled up against him. He needed to pay attention to their current situation rather than fixating too much on her.

The teenaged street children were among the saddest fighters that Steve had ever encountered. From the street to street fighting they had so far been engaged in, the Shegués most often surrendered their armaments when a designated emissary (the Wakandans had smartly deployed not only tactical forces but also roving social workers) offered them a secure escape from the paramilitary forces paying them with threats and starvation rations. Queen Ramonda’s new vision of Wakanda as a light for the African continent had already taken a firm hold of the peoples’ imagination for what life could be in the wake of The Erasure, given an equitable distribution of resources. The presence of the impressively uniformed Dora Milaje only served to reinforce the power behind this idea.

M'Baku suddenly appeared on their right, a contingent of Jabari warriors with him. He brushed some dirt off his impressive biceps as he said, “This should not last much longer. We ought to finish up quickly so the colonizers can continue shoring up their numbers.” He shoot a suggestive wink at Steve. “I suppose I can’t complain when it is _these_ colonizers, at least.”

Steve found that he was far more sensitive about the reference to their sex lives than Natasha, as she replied, “Any child of mine will be proud to be allied with the Dora Milaje or the King’s Guard. The Jabari, though…”

M’Baku laughed heartily at Natasha’s teasing; they had an oddly affable relationship, exchanging war stories and tofu recipes. “It is true we have far more strenuous training requirements, but there is a chance a child of yours might survive the…”

Another nearby explosion cut the good-natured banter short. Okoye called out positions for the available forces, “Dora Milaje from the southwest, Jabari from the southeast, Avengers…”

“From due south,” Steve filled in, watching the simulation of the three-pronged assault from the hologram on Okoye’s bracelet. He grasped Natasha’s hand before saying, “On your count, General.”

He hoped that Okoye was counting backwards from three as she said, “Zintathu, zimbini, inye…”

His instinct proved true as the rest of the team burst forward toward their appointed positions when he and Natasha did. As the central position, they drew most of the automatic weapons fire, which was wholly absorbed by his shield as they crouched behind it, the impacts causing an intense vibration through his arm. Natasha periodically ducked around his shield to fire, though he wasn’t about to ask how she was hitting distant targets with only her handguns, an assault rifle still slung across her back. He knew that he probably didn’t want to know how she’d achieved a sniper’s aim with pistols, no matter how many targets she consistently hit, if the reduction of impacts against his shield was any indication. “You are amazing.”

She pressed a sudden kiss to his lips. “Tell me something I don’t know.” He lost track of her as she summersaulted from under his shield to a position behind another large tree. The next few minutes were chaotic as they moved through the brush toward another street, driving the enemy toward a single point, a six story office building that local police had already cleared. Then Natasha singlehandedly (or alongside the Dora Milaje and Jabari, but Steve liked his mental picture of her handling it solo) cleared the building of resistance, mostly consisting of teenagers who just wanted food and clean water, never mind sanitation and education. She was smiling as Okoye introduced them to a Wakandan social worker when Steve rushed into the lobby after disarming and restraining one of the few militant adults in the area.

As he looked at the impossibly young fighters, he was struck by something. “No injuries?”

“Minor cuts and bruises. Probably some infections and problems related to malnutrition.” Natasha looked up from reloading one of her guns. “What?”

“No, I just…I thought you’d gotten a lot of hits. That’s all.”

“They’re kids, Steve. I was aiming to make them duck, not to hit them.”

“Right,” he murmured, not quite believing the scene unfolding before them as children – honest to God _children_ – cried in the arms of the people they had just been fighting, thankful for the chance to embrace a new way of life. He had seen the fighters mostly at a distance thus far and he could no longer deny how young they were. He could understand only a portion of what they were saying in the local French dialect, but he picked up enough to know that some had lost their entire families in The Erasure while others had come from the countryside trying to find food or money for family members they’d left behind. They were young and desperate, eager to accept anything in return for assurances of food and safety, especially for very young or elderly family members – something Colonel Punda had promised but not delivered in his quest for power. Steve wished he could communicate with something more meaningful than smiles or sympathetic frowns, because his _français de Belgique_ seemed to make the kids more nervous. Or maybe it was his bulk combined with his complexion that was scaring them. He opted to lean against a wall to keep an eye on the street through a window.

His attention kept coming back to the scene in the lobby, though. Two older teens, the presumptive leaders of this group, were speaking seriously with Okoye and one of the social workers. Most of the others were grouped around the Dora Milaje and Jabari warriors, who were describing everything from the wonders of Wakanda to the details of their uniforms. M’Baku had attracted an admiring crowd of skinny boys as passed out granola bars and water while he told a story about fighting hand to horn with a rhinoceros. Steve almost gasped when he realized he couldn’t see Natasha, who should have stood out pretty starkly in this group, but he suddenly spotted her sitting on the floor as she allowed a group of young girls (nine? ten-year-olds?) to braid her hair as she spoke softly to them.

Maybe they would have a daughter who would learn to braid her mother’s hair and laugh sweetly at smiles and compliments…

“Hey, Musungu!” Steve looked up as two boys who couldn’t be older than fifteen swaggered over to him. “Yeah, you. You are American Captain, yeah?”

He nodded and held out his hand. “My friends call me Steve.”

“Ah, yeah, we all friends now,” one of the boys replied, flashing a dazzling smile as he accepted the handshake. “I am Destin. This is my brother, Rishi. What you got in your pack for your friends, then?”

Steve leaned down to pick up the backpack Natasha had handed him on the jet just before they’d jumped off in Kinshasa. It had been heavy enough that he’d thought he was carrying her extra ammunition, but he was surprised to find it full of candy bars and Coke cans when he opened it. The two boys whooped, attracting enough attention that, when they showed off what they’d gotten, Steve became the most popular person in the room for the thirty seconds it took to pass everything out.

Natasha, sporting several uneven braids around her head, sidled up to him as the room settled back down. “Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to reinforce some stereotypes about America,” she said with a wink, nodding toward the kids – the same kids who had been firing rockets and automatic weapons at them less than an hour before – exchanging bites of the different candy bars and sipping Coca-Cola with satisfied sighs. As if reading his thoughts, she continued, “It’s good to see them being kids, huh?”

“A lot better than the alternative.”

She pointed to one of her braids. “The little girl who did this one? Her name is Zuri and she’s eight. Her sister brought her to the city after they lost their mother and grandparents in The Erasure so they could look for their father, who worked in a factory. They walked for days, and when they got here, they couldn’t find him, so they fell in with a group of Shegués who were eventually recruited to fight the corrupt government by Punda’s men. Her job was to carry rockets from the ammo dump to the front line.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably as Natasha went on, “In my head, I know that’s a terrible thing to make an eight-year-old do, but at the same time… Let’s just say that eight-year-old me would have been happy to get such a cushy job.”

“Nat, you…” He was at a loss, trying to force his mental gears to turn fast enough to come up with the right thing to say in response.

“Yeah, I know. It’s not like it matters, not really, because I would never treat a child the way I was treated, but it still says a lot about me that my first thought when I hear something like that is, ‘Oh, lucky assignment.’”

Thoughts finally catching up to the conversation, he asked, “Did you tell her that?”

“What? No.”

“So, you just made her smile and let her braid your hair, then?”

“Stop trying to make me feel better.”

“No deal. I’m your husband and that’s my job.”

She didn’t get a chance to reply as the little girl, Zuri, ran over to show Natasha the Snickers she’d half-eaten. As Natasha sat to let the little girl finish her braid, Steve pulled out his phone to snap a picture. It would serve as an excellent reminder for the next time Natasha doubted herself.


	19. Chapter 19

Natasha frowned into the bathroom mirror, having just counted back the days from her last period. She was definitely late, not that that necessarily meant anything given her history, but the past two since her healing treatment in Wakanda had been like clockwork – three days of moderate flow followed by twenty-seven days with a temperature spike right at day fourteen. She and Steve had been having sex as frequently as ever, so it was entirely possible…

She carefully pushed the drawer containing the unused pregnancy test closed. She could still vividly remember drinking glass after glass of water in the en suite bathroom at their house in Châtalet so she could manage to urinate on one more test, convinced that the next one would show the negative she’d been so convinced she wanted. Sam had been there to provide support while Maria had shown up to shake sense into her and encourage peeing. Now Natasha didn’t have either of her friends and she knew that she would view a negative test as some kind of failure on her part. Strange. For now, she would give it another few days before she tried to make it _that_ real. She splashed some water on her face and left the bathroom.

Her main source of support was sitting on the bed, pulling off his sneakers. She forced herself to smile when he looked up. “Have a good run?”

“Yeah! Did three laps of the perimeter fence. Thought I’d be able to sneak back to bed and sweat on you, but you’re already awake.”

“Well, sorry I missed that.” She bent to press a lingering kiss to his lips. “I’m gonna go make coffee in the common kitchen. Maybe I’ll even make you something for breakfast.”

“Vaguely cooked eggs and microwave sausage?”

“My specialties.” Neither commented on how their self-cooked meals had regressed after losing Sam and his gourmet tastes. “I’ll just…I should probably go start the coffee.”

After a moment, Steve grinned. “I’ll be right down after my shower.”

There was a moment before he disappeared into the bathroom that she considered sharing her suspicion, but it passed and she was walking down the hall of HQ a moment later. She could tell him any time after she confirmed a pregnancy, as long as she came up with believable reasons for her reluctance to partake of any vodka or wine over the next week or so. Why was she reluctant to talk to him about it anyway? They’d made a mutual decision to try for a baby, so it wouldn’t be a problem or even necessarily a surprise. And she could relieve the uncertainty with a simple test that Shuri had assured her was far more accurate and sensitive than anything else available.

The thought that she was wrong and not pregnant nagged at her mind as she entered the kitchen, making the coffee before putting the biggest frying pan on the stove and starting on eggs, toast and sausage. She didn’t even break a yolk until she started turning them over in an attempt at over-easy. A wave of nausea threatened as the yellow oozed onto the black surface of the pan. Oh…

She barely made it to the sink before she was emptying the meager contents of her stomach onto a plate _someone_ (definitely not _her_ having a midnight peanut butter sandwich) hadn’t bothered to wash the previous night. At least there wasn’t much to bring up and it was on the side of the sink with the garbage disposal. So maybe she was going to have to take that pregnancy test sooner rather than later. Still, she’d managed to clean up and only just overcook the eggs by the time Steve walked in.

She didn’t experience any further nausea as they ate, but she was fully aware that she was acting a little off. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, instead talking about the meeting they would be attending next week at the International Criminal Court in The Hague regarding future prosecution of alien war criminals. “I just think it’s kind of premature to talk about how we might try Thanos when we haven’t even found him yet.”

“Didn’t really strike me as the kind of guy who’d sit calmly through a trial, either. How are your eggs?”

“Oh, good, thanks.” He shoveled in another mouthful, chewing and swallowing before adding, “Glad you didn’t try to poach them this time.”

“They came out just fine when Sam taught me how to…” They both looked away and continued eating breakfast.  She eventually said, “Whatever, I could probably just crack them into your mouth and you’d eat them.”

“Raw?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a cliché, but I think it would work if you wore your suit. The loud patriotic one, I mean.”

He ran a hand through his longer, unkempt hair. “That helmet was so uncomfortable.”

“Probably wouldn’t be better with your beard, which you are _not_ shaving, so don’t even suggest it.”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve got an unhealthy fixation on my beard.” He scratched it just the way she’d been hoping after seeing his fingers sweep through his hair. Those blond strands were not supposed to be so attractive. She’d never had a thing for facial hair before seeing a hirsute Steve, but she wasn’t about to apologize for it when her husband was so…so…

She let out a purr low in her throat in spite of herself. His eyes widened and she tried to take another bite of toast to conceal her response. Only Steve’s insatiable appetite (for food) prevented them from sprinting back to their bedroom, the full plates of eggs and sausage providing a good excuse to stay. She finally collected herself enough to say, “Why shouldn’t I notice your various hairs? It’s not like you aren’t always touching mine.”

Ignoring the innuendo, he finished the food on his plate and reached for hers, correctly assuming that he could finish her breakfast as well. He stopped her from taking the plates to the sink a moment later, however. “Hey, you made breakfast, so I’ll do the dishes, okay?”

“Fair enough.” She pushed herself up to sit on the counter at a good angle to watch him bend over as he loaded the dishwasher while she finished her coffee. Before he could handwash the frying pan, she waved her empty mug at him. “How about you flash me that ass one more time.”

He blushed slightly as he took the cup. “Nat, really?”

“You’ve yet to give me my ceiling mirrors, so I take my kicks where I can get them.”

“Uh-huh.” After a quick glance around, likely to ensure that they were still alone, he bent slowly to place the mug on the top rack. Then he leaned down further. “Do you think all these plates are properly arranged?”

She had to laugh as he gave a little wiggle that showed off both his assets and lack of dancing ability. She didn’t mind, though, when he was wearing those nicely fitted olive drab sweatpants that did nothing to conceal his firm shape. She beckoned to him when he stood, wrapping her legs around his hips as he pressed against her, a kiss the least she was willing to give in this moment. As the embrace went on, she reflected that she could be pregnant right now. There might be a little ball of cells that would eventually become a baby that they had made together and…

“No! No you don’t! Not where we eat!”

“Morning, Darcy.” The moment that she may have shared her suspicions was blessedly interrupted. Natasha didn’t let Steve step away, keeping her arms around his neck even as she let her legs drop. “As you can see, we’re fully clothed and just kissing.”

Darcy was unimpressed. “Okay, first of all, you’re making out, not just kissing and that can lead to spit everywhere on its own, and second, we all know that you’re not gonna stop with just the kissing so get back to your bed and leave the kitchens and conference rooms and lounges and literally every other public area to us non-married folk on base who are just trying to live our lives without constantly having our eye-holes assaulted.”

“We weren’t planning to…”

“We totally were planning to,” Natasha interrupted Steve’s denunciation, if only to save time on an argument with Darcy about just what they’d been planning, complete with details that would make Steve squirm. “Sorry. Will probably happen again, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Darcy poured herself a cup of coffee and took a deep sip. “At least you understand the proper ratio of coffee grounds to water. And, just to clarify, I won’t be mad if you guys decide to debauch any of the treadmills in the gym as long as you leave at least the nautilus machines and one recumbent bike alone.”

“You don’t want one clean treadmill?” Natasha asked, not paying attention to Steve’s urgent gestures toward the door, probably so he wouldn’t be tricked into a spontaneous confession about the mats. Or the boxing ring. Or the free-weight benches. “We can always designate the one closest to the door as yours and put up a ‘No Sex on This Treadmill’ sign.”

“Nah, but I appreciate the thought. Treadmills are my archnemesis.” She gave a little half-jump to demonstrate her bounciness. “Running disagrees with my girls.”

Natasha sniggered as Steve tried to slip out of her arms, most likely in order to sink into the floor. She offered, “If you’re looking for better support…”

“Oh, no. Don’t you go extrapolating from your oranges to my cantaloupes. I stick with the bike, maybe sometimes the rowing machine so I vary my cardio, but don’t think I’m gonna go bouncing everywhere.”

Steve had switched from looking embarrassed to looking confused, so Natasha took pity on him. “In the interest of not arguing that I’ve actually got grapefruits, I’m just gonna escort Steve back to our bedroom.”

“Yeah. See that you do before anyone monitoring the base cameras reports any nudity that I definitely won’t post on official Avengers social media.”

She silenced his question about why they’d been discussing fruits with a firm kiss and led him back to their quarters.

* * *

Natasha smiled with satisfaction as Steve rolled off her. “Okay, so maybe I overstated the importance of the mirrors.”

“Yeah, as if you’re not…gonna be talking about my ass…in public…in the future.”

Her smile morphed into a grin as she realized that she had – once again – caused Captain America to be out of breath. She hoped she’d never tire of this particular feeling. “It _is_ a very nice ass.”

“Oh, Nat…”

“Shh.” She pressed her lips against his, making herself focus on something other than his very shapely ass. “I’ll be right back.”

As she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door, her gaze landed on the drawer with the pregnancy test. The endorphin rush from her orgasm hadn’t faded enough for her anxiety and self-doubt about taking it to reappear with any force. She had to pee once she’d cleaned up anyway, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just get it over with. It was probably better than the constant questioning.

Probably.

She took a deep breath before pulling out the box containing the test. Shuri had designed a more sensitive model than the disposable kind from the pharmacy and provided the prototype before they’d left Wakanda. Natasha held the silver stick in her hand and slid the long testing strip into the slot according to the instructions. In less than a minute, she might be telling Steve that they were having a baby. And if not… Actually, this would work out better than she’d expected; the little testing strip on the Wakandan device could just be tossed in the trash and would look like a random piece of plastic wrap, so she wouldn’t have to deal with a conversation about how she felt if the test turned out negative. She could just put the test away and pretend she hadn’t taken it yet, then wait until she felt like she should take it again. No fuss, no muss.

Good. Right. This would be fine. Another deep breath as she positioned the testing strip. A light went off to indicate the sample was enough to provide the necessary information. She set the test on the counter and finished up. She was washing her hands when the test beeped loudly before Shuri’s voice burst through the bathroom, “You are not pregnant yet. Go have more sex.”

Natasha froze. She could hear Steve’s footsteps outside, but she couldn’t make herself move. He wouldn’t just barge in, but he wouldn’t just wait indefinitely. There was no way he hadn’t heard that ridiculously loud recording. Bracing her arms against the countertop, she wondered how long it would take for…

The knock came a full minute before she expected. From the other side of the door, Steve asked, “Are you okay, Nat?”

“Just come in.”

He opened the door slowly, being careful not to hit her with it. She moved aside slightly so he could open it fully. “You, um, thought…” He paused and looked down, shuffling his feet awkwardly. She realized that he had pulled on a pair of boxers while she hadn’t bothered to put on anything in her rush to the bathroom. She fought down the urge to either cross her arms over her chest or turn toward him with hands on her hips; she opted to stand pat. He finally continued, “You thought you were pregnant?”

“I wasn’t sure. I just thought…it couldn’t hurt to check, right?”

“Oh. Right.”

“And, like you heard that damn thing scream, I’m not.”

“Right,” he repeated. After a moment, he gestured to the test and went on, “If, uh, that thing came with instructions, turning down the volume is probably in the small print. Shuri seems like a prankster.”

“Uh huh.” She was seized with the idea that she needed to say something further, but it just wouldn’t come. Too late, she realized that she’d been expecting a positive test. She _wanted_ to be pregnant, to prove that she could be a proper wife, to make a baby with the love of her life. Hell, they’d managed to do it without even trying and now that they had the realistic opportunity…now… “I’m sorry.”

He looked surprised. “For what?”

“I…I’m not pregnant.”

“That’s okay. It can take time. Shuri told us that the treatment was successful, so we’ll just keep trying.”

“Steve, you…don’t you get it?”

“What is there to get? When it happens, it happens. It hasn’t been that long since we even started trying, so there’s no need to…”

“But what if I can’t?” She couldn’t even meet her own eyes in the mirror, shocked she’d admitted her fear so quickly. “What if we never… What if I can’t ever…”

“Shh,” he murmured in her ear as he embraced her from behind, his warmth seeping directly into her skin. “This isn’t a combat operation. We’re not on any timetable. If we’re meant to have a baby, we will.”

She didn’t bother to answer with the obvious counter. Instead, she leaned against his chest. She knew he believed that they would conceive successfully, that someday he would be holding a little swaddled bundle with blue eyes and a shock of red hair, but…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ring of her phone. She slipped away from Steve’s embrace and answered after a glance at the caller ID, “Hey, Pepper. What’s…”

“It’s coming!” Happy shouted back. “You have to come now because it’s coming!”

“Happy, take a deep breath or six.”

“I’m breathing just fine!”

Natasha smiled in spite of herself. “Are you trying to say that Pepper in labor?”

“Why else would I be calling you?”

“Right. We’re on our way. Which hospital?”

“Sinai.”

“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

“Hurry!”

The line abruptly went dead. She looked at Steve, their own troubles forgotten for the moment. “We need to go. Pepper is having her baby.”

He nodded to indicate that he agreed that their own issues had been shifted to the back burner. “Right. Is Rhodey on base?”

“No, Colorado Springs. He’s doing that seminar at the Air Force Academy,” she replied as they both yanked on the closest items of clothing. “Bruce should be around. Try calling the lab. I’ll tell Darcy to send a message to the Asgardians and clear a flight plan to the city.”

“Will the hospital let us use their helipad?”

“No need. We’ll land at the townhouse and take a car.”

Natasha was able to focus on logistics for the next few minutes as she organized the trip and conducted pre-flight checks in the quinjet. There were newer models in the hangar, but they always inevitably defaulted to the jet they’d had since the safe house in Holland. Hell, it was the same jet Steve and Bucky had taken to Siberia after… She turned her attention back to the monitors to ensure the quick trip would be uneventful. Steve took the co-pilot’s chair a moment later while Bruce sat in the back with Darcy, who had come along with the modified tablet that allowed them to contact Thor. For his part, Thor was already stockpiling baby gifts that included blankets, clothing and ceremonial weapons that apparently commemorated Tony’s accomplishments as a warrior. Thor was planning to visit as soon as the baby was born, discussing a viable landing site for the Bifrost in Central Park with Darcy.

There was no need to think about anything other than the mission as Natasha piloted the jet into the city, then drove one of Tony’s high-performance SUVs the few blocks to the hospital. She parked illegally, though an NYPD officer saluted as the group rushed through the automatic doors and neatly caught the keys she tossed him. Rhodey called when they were in the elevator, assuring that he would be there as soon as he could.

It didn’t feel real until they left the elevator at the appropriate floor. Happy paced the waiting room outside the maternity unit while Pepper’s assistant, Meghan, sat in a chair, wringing her hands. Meghan spotted them first. “Thank god! Ms. Potts kicked Mr. Hogan out and she won’t allow anyone but you in with her!”

“Oh, I can’t possibly…” Bruce started before realizing that she was staring pleadingly at Natasha. “Oh, right.”

Meghan reached for Natasha’s hands. “Please, Ms. Potts shouldn’t be alone with strangers right now and she wants you to be there. Please.”

Natasha nodded. She pressed the intercom to contact the nurses’ station in the maternity department. “I’m here to see Pepper, er, Virginia Potts.”

After a moment, a crackly voice replied, “Name?”

“Natasha Romanoff.”

There was a long pause. “Really?”

“Really. Don’t you have cameras?”

“Hold on.” Another minute passed before a buzzer sounded. “Come in.”

She turned to nod to Steve. “Wait out here. I’ll let you know when I know.” He smiled and nodded as the doors closed behind her. She walked down the tiled hallway until she reached the unoccupied desk. “Hello?”

A woman in cranberry-colored scrubs appeared around the corner. “Sorry, but our secretary is out today and whoever is here between call-buttons is answering the buzzer. Who are you here for?”

“Ms. Potts.”

The woman typed something into the computer terminal. “And your name?”

“Natasha Romanoff.”

“Okay…you need to go down the hall, to the right and into room 408. Should I offer my congratulations to the other new Mommy?”

“I’m just a friend,” she replied, though she had to appreciate the characterization, if only for a moment. “How’s she doing?”

“Well, you’re the only one on the approved visitors list, so be prepared.”

“I’m always prepared.”

The woman didn’t allow for other preliminaries as she waved for Natasha to follow. “Ms. Potts’ membranes ruptured spontaneously at roughly 1100 hours. She is currently 5cm dilated, 40% effaced. It could be six or more hours before…”

“Natasha!” Pepper cried out, causing Natasha to rush away from the nurse to Pepper’s side. “Thank you for…”

She crushed her fingers around Natasha’s the moment they made contact, apparently experiencing a contraction. Natasha encouraged breathing as best she could until Pepper was able to relax. “Of course. Where else would I be when I heard the baby was coming?”

“You have so many responsibilities. I just thought you might have something better to…oh!” Pepper clenched down for a moment. “The baby’s just moving. Okay. I’m okay. Is Rhodey here?”

“He’s on his way. Bruce is here and Darcy has Thor on communications.”

“Any luck with that Danvers woman?”

Natasha was reluctant, but she shook her head. Carol Danvers, a powerful superhuman, had contacted the Asgardian colony in response to the signal they had amplified from Seeker 1, saying she knew Nick Fury and offering cooperation in hunting Thanos, but she hadn’t been able to locate Tony or a signal from Rocket’s ‘morons.’ “Nothing yet, but it’s a big universe.”

“Too big. If he could be here, he’d…” Pepper trailed off in a pained cry. When it was over she asked, “You said Bruce is here?”

“In the waiting room.”

“I thought about having him in here, y’know as a guest physician, but I don’t know how he’d respond to pain he can’t treat. Smashing isn’t a solution right now.”

Natasha smiled. “Probably better for him to be out there. Is there someone else I can call?”

“No, I just…please don’t leave me.”

“Never,” Natasha assured, twining her fingers through Pepper’s. “You told the nurses that I’m allowed to be here, so you’re stuck with me.”

“Thank… OH!”

It went on for hours – Pepper suffering as an obstetrician repeatedly checked and told her it wasn’t time. Natasha remained at her side, occasionally texting Steve to update him on the supposed progress in centimeters and percentages. In spite of her pain, Pepper managed to get up to go to the bathroom and sleep a few hours before nature managed to take its course. Natasha found herself clutching Pepper’s hand at the head of the bed while the doctor encouraged her to push. It was either a second or an eternity before a high-pitched cry sounded in the room. Natasha didn’t allow herself to believe it until the doctor placed the slimy but beautiful baby on Pepper’s bare belly with the triumphant shout, “It’s a girl!”

“A girl!” Pepper repeated, reaching down to stroke her daughter’s head. “A baby girl!”

“She’s perfect,” Natasha said, unsure that she had even continued to exist in the new mom’s perception. She held Pepper’s hand as the baby was briefly removed to be weighed, measured and inoculated, but she was also aware that she was no longer needed in the delivery room. At the very least, she was allowed to share the news in the waiting room. “Morgan Stark is 8lbs, 12oz, 20 inches long and healthy.”

Spontaneous joy erupted, with Happy picking up Meghan and Bruce awkwardly embracing Darcy. In spite of the confusion, Natasha found herself in Steve’s arms, totally content with the fact that she was not currently pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm sorry for the gap between updates, but RL is cray-cray, as the kids say. Wish I had some other excuse. Also, I downloaded Endgame and haven't watched it yet. I watched the deleted scenes and bloopers, but I just can't watch the movie yet. I'm a wreck who can watch Coco, but not Avengers. Curses.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I should be better about updating, but I haven't felt like writing and there's nothing else to be done.

“What do you think about taking a meeting with the Russians?”

Steve looked up from the book he was reading in bed (an historical account of the battle of Tarawa) to judge whether Natasha was joking. She certainly didn’t look like she was joking as she remained focused on her biography of George Washington (he loved that she still read actual books rather than the electronic versions that Darcy kept downloading onto the tablet he only used for briefing material; also that she left him the ones she thought he’d find interesting on his nightstand), but there was a chance that she was employing an interrogation mask to judge his reaction to her question. She didn’t usually do that with him, but… He decided to rely on his trust in their relationship and just state his suspicions. “Nat, is this a real question or are you testing me?”

“Real question. Why would I need to test you?” She didn’t look at him, but her eyes clearly weren’t tracking across the text anymore. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with the newly expanded encampment outside the front gates.”

“Right.” What had started as a single Russian fanatic living in a tent over five months ago had, following reports that Steve and Natasha had been seen visiting the maternity unit at Mount Sinai Hospital, turned into a full-fledged campground that regularly held candlelight vigils and Orthodox masses in honor of their Tsarina, no matter how many times Security pushed them back by extending the cordon around Avengers HQ. Almost all of the camp residents had been traced back to the Russian émigré communities in Brighton Beach, Bergen County and Long Island, though some had traveled from as far as Alaska and Russia itself. At least the focus on them had resulted in extremely low-key media attention on Pepper and baby Morgan, who had relocated to a home outside the city only a few miles away from HQ that could be accessed via stealth quinjet. Visitors were always welcome and Natasha had spent several nights there keeping Pepper company. Steve blinked as he saw that Natasha was looking at him expectantly. “So…are we going to invite a few of them into the conference room or are you gonna stand on the guard tower with a bullhorn?”

“Not a meeting with _them_. Those people are either deluded by grief or being paid by those восстановить монархию idiots. I mean an official meeting with the Russian government.”

“Uh-huh. The same Russian government that has practically begged you to take over and whose ambassador to the United Nations wrapped his arms around your knees outside the Security Council chamber while blubbering?”

“Yeah, that one.” She was still staring down, although she was definitely staring at a point miles past her book right now. “Sounds dumb when you say it out loud like that.”

Steve blew out a long breath, tucking a bookmark between the pages he’d been reading. This wasn’t their usual pillow talk, but if Natasha was bringing it up… “Do you think a meeting with them will discourage them or give them an opening?” 

“I’m not sure. Maybe if I tell an official representative face to face that they can go fuck themselves, they actually will. Or maybe they’ll think of it as a foot in the door. I just don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“You wouldn’t have asked me otherwise?”

“I _would_ , obviously, but…” She suddenly turned toward him, allowing her own book to fall off the bed without her place marked. “I’m just trying to avoid all of the nonsense, just like I have since this started.”

“Sounds like you’re ‘just’ a lot of things.” He carefully set his own book aside, snaking an arm under the covers to wrap around her. “If it’s just nonsense, we don’t need to take the meeting. We can let the interest run its course and die on its own.”

“Good.” Her kiss started gently, then her lips became more demanding.

He enjoyed the distraction almost long enough to forget that they were having a serious conversation. He tangled his fingers in her hair before pulling back. “Some reason you’re worried about the Russians?”

“I’m not worried, I just…I mean, you saw the security footage from Darcy and Porter’s date, right?”

Steve had to smile as he recalled Darcy’s eventual and very public demand in the galley (that Avengers HQ staff had finally reopened so there were again real chefs on base to save them from themselves) that Porter (Josh to his friends) take her to a dinner that she would pay for, in spite of his insistence that he could afford a meal at the local Cracker Barrel. In spite of the initial friction, a banana pancake dinner had apparently resolved any issues and the pair were now acting in a way that Steve suspected would have been deemed scandalous if it had been he and Natasha. It took a moment for him to recall the relevant detail. “Oh, you think the waitress who offered to comp their meal in exchange for access to you to plead her case on behalf of the Russian people…”

“Don’t do the accent,” she interrupted.

He hadn’t even been aware that he’d been copying Darcy’s storytelling style, but adjusted his cadence, “I’m asking if you think that’s part of some larger conspiracy or something.”

“Spoken like a non-KGB raised individual.”

“So, no possibility that she’s just a person who got a job nearby on the off chance that you’d go out for dinner and she might get an autograph or something?” He pressed a kiss to the angle of her jaw. “You _are_ a beautiful celebrity hero, remember?”

“No, that’s you. It would be a lot less suspicious if she were trying to horn in on you.”

“Weren’t you the one who was encouraging me to be more accepting of different orientations and identities?”

“Not the time to prove how woke you are. We’re talking about geopolitics and the largest country on Earth asking me to be their supreme leader.”

The fact that she wasn’t outright agreeing with his advice that they ignore the Russian situation seemed to indicate that she hadn’t yet resolved the issue in her own mind. He decided to take a different tack. “Y’know, you could do a lot of good as the ruler of Russia. Cultural reform, economic policies… Like you said, it’s a large, powerful country.”

“Steve…”

“Just imagine Empress Natasha introducing free speech and freedom of religion and the press and,” he had to think for a moment about non-Constitutional reforms, “uh…nuclear disarmament and, um….other good things.”

“American things, you mean. Not that Russia couldn’t use some quality reforms. And it would actually be Empress _Natalia_ , because proper etiquette is a must. No diminutives in public for royalty”

He went on with a smirk of superiority, “But Empress Natalia would have to give up her position as the leader of the Avengers. Can’t have an empress whose first duty is to the world rather than her, um, empire.” He kissed her softly, allowing her to suck on his bottom lip the way she liked. “Not to mention that Captain America would probably have to give up his title in order to be married to the Tsarina.” Following up more gently, he traced his fingertips  along her jawline. “Bet he’d do it willingly.”

“Your hypotheticals are just awful.”

“But accurate.”

“I suppose.” She suddenly hooked her leg over his hip, pushing him onto his back. “So we’re definitely not meeting with the Russians.”

“Definitely not.”

“Good.” She ground her hips against his as she straddled him. “No reason to let all the spies keep us from enjoying our time together.”

“Oh, Nat…” In spite of his almost engrossing arousal, he had to shake his head at her assertion. “No one is keeping an eye on us here, no matter what Darcy likes to threaten about the internal cameras.”

“Maybe not inside HQ, but…I mean, you’ve at least thought about people filming over the fence, right? Not just the Russians but the media, paparazzi, nosey people…” The movement of her hips, hot and wet against him, suddenly stopped. “C’mon, Steve, you know that The Erasure didn’t stop the tabloids, right?”

“Um…no?” He was vaguely aware that certain lowbrow publications had been printing pictures and nonsense articles about him since he’d become an Avenger, though he hadn’t really followed any of the stories about his supposed trysts with Hollywood actresses or fashion models. “They know I’m married to you. That means something, doesn’t it?”

“It does for us.” She still rolled her eyes, presumably at his naiveté, as she settled back on his thighs, though she didn’t stop stroking her hands over his upper body. “I’m not saying that they’re filming _everything_ , just…you know that there’s a YouTube account that livestreams anytime you run along the fence, right? And there’s probably a whole online community that Darcy’s monitoring…”

“Probably?” he interrupted, his hand comfortable on the curve of her waist.

“Absolutely is,” she conceded. “I don’t supposed there’s any point in concealing the fact that there’s an online community obsessing over your morning runs and using them to estimate how many times we’ve had sex in the past few days.”

Steve was flabbergasted. “How are these weirdos linking _that_ to my runs?”

“Oh, how far you go, if you’re moving gingerly, if you’ve got any visible hickeys above your collar…  Apparently infrared cameras can detect marks that are invisible to the naked eye.”

He inhaled sharply as she ran her hands over his chest and down his stomach. His jaw worked for a minute in a way he was sure was reminiscent of a fish out of water as his brain catalogued every hickey, love bite and actual bite that Natasha had left on him since…heck, if he only went back to their marriage, that was still… “Then they…how can they…can…” He sucked in another breath, briefly wondering if he should push her lips off his chest. “How can they…?”

Natasha cuddled against his side and rested her chin on his shoulder with a grin. “They can’t.”

“Then _why_ are you threatening me with…” His instinct to protect their privacy was suddenly overcome by their potential future. “Is this practice? Are you trying to make me imagine what it might be like when we really…oh, Nat, our baby…”

“Yeah. Our baby that we haven’t even conceived yet..”

“They wouldn’t….”

“They totally would.”

Steve felt the dream he hadn’t realized he’d been maintaining of isolated fatherhood collapse. Private moments would be confined to secure sites like HQ. There wouldn’t be any carefree trips to the park or zoo or circus or whatever other places you could take a child. They probably wouldn’t even be able to keep their house in Châtalet secret; it was amazing they’d kept it secret this long. He realized that he had been so caught up in his idealized version of the future that he hadn’t really thought about the real world consequences of having a child in their present circumstances. Sure, he had thought about turning an attached room at HQ (Sam would have happily moved) into a nursery that could then be adapted into a child’s bedroom and he had thought about potential babysitters (Rhodey, Thor (supervised by Sif and Val), Darcy, and Bruce, in that order – Pepper wasn’t included only because she had Morgan to look after, though she would have normally been first on anyone’s list of responsible adults). What he hadn’t truly considered was the wider world’s attention toward Captain America and Black Widow, laser focused on a little baby that couldn’t protect him or herself from every invasive lens and question and…

“Steve!”

He forced himself to control his breathing before Natasha could smack him again. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay.” In spite of her skeptical expression, she didn’t raise her hand to knuckle his sternum again. “Are you freaking out about the Russians or the potential pregnancy? Because I gotta say that one is way higher on my panic scale than the other.”

“True, but…” He let his hand caress her flat stomach, knowing that he was just projecting. “We’re only actively seeking one of those things. And you’re the one who brought up the Russians.”

“Relax, Steve.” It took more than a few moments of her hands stroking through his hair and down his back for him to let go of the tension he’d been holding. He leaned into her embrace as she whispered, “Don’t get caught up in the outside world. I know there’s a lot out there to concern us, but… Don’t let anyone dictate our freedom.”

He flashed back to a news report from a few years before. “Did you just quote…”

“Deal with it, Steve.”

“Right.” He didn’t have an argument against her, simply enjoying his wife lying against him in bed. They could deal with anything else later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you're curious about the totally NSFW reference toward the end... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98H-pWUPM0k


End file.
